Mixed Priorities
by NerdBurga
Summary: Ok, in a nutshell? NCIS Team meet Supernatural over a case involving a house fire and a missing Staff Sergeant. Psychic!Sam, Protective!Dean, totally awesome!NCIS everybody :D Dedicated to Tosca's Prayer, cuz she's da best. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Supernatural crossing over with NCIS is like my life's dream, so yeah, I thought I'd have a go at it. I've got the plot figured out, I just hope I can stay motivated to finish this story, unlike my last try at fanfiction (whoops). Don't expect the updates to be very fast as I am going through exams at the moment (kill me now) but I will do my best. Hope you enjoy.**

**P.S, do we really have to claim we don't own the shows or characters or anything? I figured that'd be kind of obvious.**

_Wendy Mills entered her driveway in the blue Sedan, breathing a sigh of relief to be home. She considered asking for some time off work as she unlocked the front door of her recently renovated home. The pay was good and it was nice being able to travel overseas and call it a job, but she just wasn't home enough. She missed her husband._

_The middle aged business woman smiled as she walked up the stairs quietly, sliding off her shoes as she went. It was late and she didn't want to wake Roger up. Staff Sergeant Roger Mills, a proud marine due to retire in just a few months. She was already planning what kind of cake to bake him to celebrate. Wendy tip toed into the bedroom, closing the door behind her before realising something was wrong. Her eyes scanned the room without turning the lights on, and spotted a figure beside the bed. Flicking the lights on she saw it was Roger, but this didn't quite comfort her when she took in his stance. Roger was on his knees, arms spread wide apart with his eyes staring widely, crazily at the ceiling. Wendy could have sworn she saw the last trails of some kind of black smoke dissapearing into her husband's mouth, his throat and eyes bulging. It was like he was frozen. Wendy rushed to his side, kneeling in front of him and trying to get his attention._

_"Roger! Roger, are you ok? Talk to me!" Wendy patted her beloved husband's face desperately, needing him to look at her. And after a moment, he did. His face slowly lowered to look back at her, his neck creaking as he did so. The staff sergeant stared at her and grinned, a wicked, cocky grin as his eyes slowly warped into a swirling, eerie yellow._

_Wendy screamed and stumbled back, away from this thing - for surely it wasn't her Roger. Still kneeling, he waved a hand at her and she was slammed against the wall, causing her to let out a yell of shock and pain. As she slowly slid up, up, up until she was being dragged across the roof, an overpowering scent filled her nostrils, something that smelt strangely like sulphur. And then all she knew was pain as she felt her stomach tear, cut open by an invisible force. Wendy screamed, her hands and feet beginning to burn, like they were on fire. As the flames engulfed Wendy Mills, all she knew was pain and cackling laughter as two yellow eyes stared up at her, enthused glee dancing amongst their depths…_

"Sam! Sammy, you with me?" Sam's vision of the room, the woman and Yellow-Eyes blurred and cleared to be replaced with a worried Dean's face and a peeling ceiling behind it. Dean's green eyes shone with worry and frustration. He knew what this was and he wasn't happy about it. Sam slowly raised his head and sat up, Dean helping him all the way. "You alright?"

Sam shook his head and stood up, trying not to sway on his feet. He knew what questions would be on Dean's lips but was in a rush and had no time, other then to blurt out "We've got a problem. Time to go."

Dean nodded and grabbed his duffel bag, already packed as if they hadn't been staying in that same motel for three nights now and headed for the door, keeping an eye on Sam the whole time. His brother had gotten another vision. Which meant something was happening with Yellow-Eyes. He'd kind of figured they had a problem.

This was so not good news.

* * *

Tony groaned, frustrated, as he was dragged out of his dream with the blonde and brunette by a persistent buzzing to the side of his head. Sighing, he reached out and grabbed the phone, bringing it up to his ear with his eyes still closed, trying to keep the image of the two girls there.

"Yeah," muttered Tony resignedly.

The beautiful image he was just barely managing to hold onto completely dissolved, unfortunately, at the gruff sound of his boss' voice on the other end.

"Forget the women DiNozzo, they're not real." Damn. Tony could swear Gibbs must be psychic. He was even more convinced by Abby's rant yesterday on all the evidence she'd scrounged up yesterday. She was starting to lean towards Gibbs being a witch. Tony couldn't help but smirk at the image of Gibbs in a pointy hat on a broom.

Gibbs continued, unaware (hopefully) of Tony's train of thought. "We got a case, it's pretty urgent. House fire in the suburbs. The wife's dead and Staff Sergeant Mills is missing."

Tony looked at the clock glowing in the darkness. 3:00am. "And Vance couldn't have waited 3 hours for us to start an investigation? Has all those toothpicks gone to his head?"

"The marine knows some pretty classified stuff. Stumbled across military secrets a few weeks back, a whole load of legal crap's being following him around ever since." Tony could hear the disapproval in Gibbs' voice. Politics would never be a strong suit of his.

"So we gotta make sure no one's drilling the guy for info," finished Tony, picking up the train of thought, "literally or otherwise. Gotcha."

"Mcgee will send you the address. Be there in ten." The line went dead and Tony sighed again, dragging himself out of bed. There was only so far you could get in Washington D.C in ten minutes, unless you were Gibbs or Ziva. But he got up, knowing he had to get his ass into gear. It was most likely this fire wasn't an accident, and the sergeant was most likely in less then friendly hands, with real sensitive info.

This was so not good news.

**Ok, short I know, but that's why it's called a Prologue! (I think.) Hope you're willing to stick around for next chapter :)**


	2. First Impressions

**Woo, next chapter. It's still a bit of a slow start, sorry, it'll really get moving soon. I forgot to mention earlier this is based probably late season 2 of SPN cuz I think Azazel was my favourite plot and I preferred when Dean's voice wasn't all gravel. So yeah. Enjoy!**

**Dedicated to Tosca's Prayer.**

Ziva held the camera up to her trained eye, photographing the carnage in front of her. The fire had claimed most of the house, leaving little to investigate. There had been no warning when neighbours were woken up to the sound of an explosion next door, and emergency services could only be so quick. Ziva found herself taking photos of burnt wood and still smoking debris. The second floor, containing only a bedroom and adjoining bathroom, had mostly collapsed inwards, smothering what was once the kitchen. The NCIS team was making slow work, picking their way through the wreckage for any kind of clues. Tony, feeling more then a little sleep deprived, was as usual taking it out on Timothy McGee, forever Probie in Tony's eyes.

"Hey, McWriter, maybe you could work this into your next book?"

"Think you could be a little more tactful about the situation Tony?" asked McGee exasperatedly, scraping some kind of dust off one of the wife's charred bones and putting it in an evidence bag.

"Says the one who sees no problem in sharing our private lives with the world," Tony scoffed back. The new book had come out about a month ago and involved elements between 'Special Agent Tommy' and the daughter of a Russian arms dealer, 'Jenica'. Not subtle. And not appreciated.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was interviewing the neighbours. And it wasn't going too well.

"So, we were asleep, of course, it was pretty late - " began an over excited Mrs Walmsley.

"Yeah, you know, early birds and all that - " interrupted her husband.

"Yeah, and then suddenly we were woken up by this almighty explosion - "

"It was huge, I swear my ears are still ringing!"

"And I told George, I told him, that just can't be good!"

"And of course I agreed, you don't get explosions like that around our neighbourhood."

"Oh no, we're a respectable place, none of that gang stuff or anything here - "

"Yeah, so naturally we were concerned - "

"So I got George to take a look out the window - "

"And there it was, fire, suddenly billowing everywhere, coming right out of their bedroom window - "

"No, no, it was their bathroom George!"

"What are you talking about Margie? It was definitely the bedroom!"

This went on for quite a while, causing Gibbs to crave a third coffee. Clearly these people were over excited. And needed hobbies. Gibbs got as much info out of them as he could (which somehow included a recipe for a pot roast) and thanked them for their time. He gave them his card, telling them to let him know if they thought of anything else... Praying they wouldn't think of anything else. With that he turned and went back to his team. And surprise surprise, his senior field agent had gotten into an argument.

"How long have you been doing this job Scully? There's no way that's possible!" exclaimed Tony exasperatedly. The arson specialist assigned to help them on the case shook his head patiently.

"It's been seen before, in rare cases. It's not completely unheard of. And eight years, in case that wasn't a rhetorical question." Tony gave him an incredulous look.

"What? I have trouble knowing when you people are serious." This earned a smirk from Ziva and McGee. They got that a lot.

"What's the problem?" asked Gibbs tiredly. He really needed that extra coffee.

"This guy's missing some marbles boss," was Tony's automatic response.

"I'm sorry Tony but I'm going to have to vouch for Agent Scully here. I too have come across this kind of - Mr Palmer what are you doing?" Ducky, their beloved ME, got up from crouching by what was left of the bones to walk over to his assistant and explain a gurney was not necessary on this case. There wasn't exactly enough of a body left to need one. Gibbs sighed. He worried about that boy sometimes.

"Oh come on, it sounds like some new age thriller. This crap doesn't happen in real life!" Tony wasn't to be distracted from making his point. Gibbs gave him a good slap upside the head to draw his attention.

"What the hell are you going on about DiNozzo?"

Scully cut in and answered for him, causing Tony to look quite disgruntled. "It's how the fire started sir. It's… a little unusual." Gibbs stared and waited impatiently. He hated it when people dawdled on the details. "Well, I've examined the burn patterns all over the house," continued Scully, taking the hint, "or, you know, what's left of the house. I also examined the bones, which Dr Mallard confirmed to be a woman's, as they obviously had burn marks too."

Ziva sidled up beside Tony, having finished bagging and tagging evidence amongst the rubble and wanting to absorb the new information.

"I double and triple checked, and I'd say I'm about…" Scully paused as if really thining about it. "83 percent certain that the fire originated from the woman." He gestured to the bones to emphasise. Gibbs raised his eyebrow at Tony. It wasn't that unusual.

"Yeah, and keep going," nagged Tony, seeing his boss's confusion.

"As in… Her back self combusted." Gibbs's other eyebrow went up. That was new. Scully continued, "I can't seem to detect any kind of accelerant on the remains, though I would leave those facts to your forensic scientist. But from what I can make of the burn patterns, Wendy Mills' back instantaneously caught fire which soon spread to the rest of her body."

"See boss? Crazy." Gibbs was silent for a minute. Definitely not natural. Almost impossibly an accident. But how could someone cause someone else to just burst into flames?

"If that was the case, how did the rest of the house go down?" he asked. He liked to know all the facts before making an assumption.

"Oh come on, there's no way -" This earned another trademark headslap.

"Rule eight DiNozzo."

Tony grimaced and backed down. "Never assume anything. Yes boss." Ziva and McGee shared a look of relief. If one person could shut the '_very_' special agent up, it was Gibbs.

Scully went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Well, if Mrs Mills was in contact with something flammable enough, like the bed or if she was leaning against the curtains, the rest of the house could have easily taken on the flames. It was an old house, all wood, so it was kind of an accident waiting to happen."

"Yeah, if it was an accident," muttered Gibbs before turning to Ziva, "any leads on the sergeant?" If anyone could track a disappearance, it was agent David. The former Massaud officer sighed and shook her head, fiddling with the bun of her dark hair. She was obviously frustrated.

"Not really. We haven't found any remains of anyone but Mrs Mills and not a smidge of blood -"

"Speck - " corrected Tony.

"Anywhere." Ziva ignored him. "It was difficult to trace any signs of a struggle through all of the rubble. It is like he just disappeared." Great. This was obviously going to be a weird one.

* * *

The team wrapped it up close to midday, having gathered all the information they could from the scene. The whole area was taped off, just barely holding back the circus of media and curious onlookers that had already gathered.

"How the hell did they catch onto this so fast?" wondered McGee aloud. Gibbs, catching movement in the window of the next door neighbours' house, was pretty sure he knew. Damn. He hated the media. The agents ducked under the tape and made their way to respective vehicles, being hassled and jostled by the crowds. Gibbs shoved microphones and cameras away from his face. Tony was close behind, commenting loudly at the tactless bid for a story, perhaps in less dignified terms. McGee kept his head up and kept moving, not quite as shy of the attention as he once was, but still not comfortable in the unrelenting eyes of the media. Ducky and Jimmy had already escaped to their truck and were on their way back to the office.

It was Ziva who noticed them.

Two men stood to the back of the morbidly curious crowd, looking more at the house remains then at the agents. They were tall, one much more so then the other, with handsome features and sombre expressions. The taller one looked stressed, his eyes haunted. The other one with the short-cut hair and leather jacket had his hand on the taller man's shoulder comfortingly, an angry expression etched into his stoic face. Ziva wouldn't have thought much of them if they hadn't looked so… Out of place. They kept apart from the rest, looking at the house rubble as if nothing else mattered. Their stance was strong and tense, as if prepared to run at a moment's notice, and Leather-Jacket's eyes continuously flickered around him, as if checking there wasn't anyone charging at them. His eyes briefly met Ziva's and she got a brief glimpse of rich green before he looked away. His grip tightened on Tall-Guy's shoulder. They shared a look and turned, walking off quickly and purposefully towards a shining black car, the kind Tony would be proud of. Ziva frowned before following the rest of the team to their own. Those men were not normal civilians, that much she could already tell. As she stepped in the front passenger seat, blocking out Tony's protests of shotgun, she couldn't help but think they'd be seeing them again on this case.

* * *

Dean rested a hand on Sam's shaking shoulder and squeezed, wishing he knew what to say. They stood at the back of the crowd, a crowd they saw too often. Curious passers by, media in the need of a story, family desperate for answers. Beyond that and the yellow tape was a pile of rubble and smoke. There was almost nothing left of the house that Sam could now probably describe in detail. Dean bit down on the worry coursing through his bones. Sam's visions always connected with Yellow-Eyes. And he said he had even seen the bastard in this one, taking over some poor soul's body and killing his wife. They had so wanted to get there on time. Save the couple, stop the demon, finally get one over on him. That had been Dean's plan, being pretty sure Sam's was mostly focused on the 'stop the demon' part. But they had failed. They were too late, and now the Demon their father had worked so hard to bring down was on the loose in America's capital. The brothers watched silently as a group of feds sorted through the mess and questioned some witnesses. This always frustrated Dean. He knew they were doing everything they could and only _what_ they could based on their knowledge. But their knowledge was limited, and it was times like this Dean just wanted the G-men out of the way so he and Sam could do their job. Sam rubbed his head gingerly, his eyes never tearing away from the scene of destruction. Visions were excruciating for Sam and never left him without a headache. Dean remembered when once his little brother had tried to describe the experience.

"It's like… Like someone's set a fire in my head. It beats at my skull, trying to get out, but I can't focus on it, I can't do anything about it, because the vision's there… Like it's in the way of the pain."

Dean only got angrier, at Yellow-Eyes or himself he wasn't sure. Sam's visions had gotten more frequent lately and they were taking a toll. He still hadn't found a way to really help Sam, apart from be there, squeeze his arm and be Sam's anchor, let him know he was there and the vision would pass. Sam had attempted to reassure Dean many times in the past that this was as much help as he could hope for. But of course that wasn't quite enough for the older brother.

The silent hunters continued to watch as the agents - did that hat say NCIS? What the hell is NCIS? - finished their preliminary investigation and headed towards the cars, pushing through the almost immovable crowd. The woman, with thick black hair and soft features looked right at him before he looked away and avoided her gaze. She may seem feminine, but she had hard, wary eyes that he didn't want to attract. She was beautiful, but no way was he going near an experienced federal agent.

Or so he thought.

**Fun fact: I just recently learnt people thought the Impala's number plates were co ordinates to John's location during Season 1. Interesting theory, if totally wrong. I'll try to upload again soon.**


	3. Bad Start

**So, here it is, next chapter! Woo! It's not as good as I was hoping, by the end I got a bit braindead. I blame the last week of exams I just went through and the assignment I still haven't finished. Whoops. Anyways: I forgot to mention earlier, I apologize for any mistakes made. Whether they be medically (I'm not an ME), forensically (I'm no Abby), geographically (I don't even live in America) or legally (I'm not a lawyer. Yet). Feel free to notify me on any mistakes, but otherwise just use your imagination and pretend I'm right :).**

**Dedicated to Tosca's Prayer.**

The moonlight washed over the dark taped off house remains, as if colouring in only half of a picture. Two silhouetted brothers made their way under the police tape and took long strides up to the crumbled wood and ash stained kitchen tiles. Sam and Dean both felt on edge as they began to shift through the rubble, much like NCIS had only hours before. Their tense muscles and shifting eyes were only slightly influenced by the fact it was a full moon. While those nights of the month never felt quite safe for the two hunters, there had been no reports of men missing hearts in Washington D.C. No, the main reason Sam and Dean's nerves were fraying into overdrive was the subject of the case they were working. The Yellow-Eyed Demon. The one that started everything. The one that killed their mum. Their dad. Jessica, the love of Sam's life. This was Yellow-Eyes, the one that set them on this path. And he was back.

For months the brothers had been searching for the Demon to no avail. Ash had been monitoring all of America, looking for the slightest of omens, and come up with nothing. So the question at the front of Dean's mind was:

"Why here, man? Why now? After all this time, what the hell would Yellow-Eyes be doing here?"

Sam looked up from where he was crouched, brushing something off his hands - sulphur, not doubt. "I think the more important question is why this guy? I mean, we've met that bastard before, and the host body seemed to be working well enough. You think something went wrong?"

"What could have happened to make him give up his old meat suit? He seemed freakin' impervious to me."

Sam's eyes widened under the glow of the moon, shining with a sudden hope that only frustrated Dean. He hated when his brother got his hopes up too high. It usually ended in disappointment. "What if something damaged him? What if someone found a way to hurt him?"

Dean turned away to continue investigating for clues as he answered. "I dunno man, don't you think that would be a bit… Easy?" If there was one thing the brothers had learnt, it was the really good things were always too good to be true. That was how it worked in their career track. "We've tried the usual methods and that dick just laughs them off. What could be so special to take down the mother of all demons? Freakin' borax?"

Sam's eye roll broke the record of eye rolls. They searched in silence for a few minutes, finding nothing but rubble buried under rubble and a fine layer of sulphur dusting all surfaces. It was proof of how powerful their enemy was that he left this much of the chemical behind, instead of the usual handful. But that wasn't what bothered Dean most right now. There was a nagging voice at the back of his head, the voice of the big brother in him, that wouldn't shut up until he asked.

"So, uh… How're you doing Sammy?" he asked in what was hopefully - but not quite - a casual voice.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm alright." It was almost an automatic response, one that infuriated Dean. Obviously it was a well-meant lie. Sam's visions had never been a walk in the park, but this one had been on a whole new level of intense. Sam's eyes were red from rubbing them, his hands shaking only slightly since he dragged himself off the hotel floor. But Dean just shook his head and left it at that. No point pushing the subject. Not for now, at least. Not until things got worse.

The two weary men ducked down instinctively as the sound of an engine came into ear shot. They crouched amongst the burnt wood, attempting to stay hidden as a car turned the corner and came into view. It glided along the suburban road at a speed that even Dean was impressed by. His appreciation dissipated when the car screeched to a stop right at the front of the property and four figures stepped out.

"Crap," Sam and Dean's thoughts were apparently on the same wavelength. They looked at each other from across the square of destroyed house and there was a moment of silence, of calm. But the moment ended, and all hell broke loose.

Torches were shone into their faces, no doubt guns accompanying their aim.

"Get on your feet! Hands above your head!"

Yep. Things just got worse.

* * *

Gibbs downed his fifth cup of coffee for the day and strode back to the open-walled squad room to come across an interesting scene. Well, perhaps not as much to Gibbs. He was resigned to walking in on his agents under unusual situations. There was the time DiNozzo and McGee were standing under a rain of paper confetti. The time Tony was standing on his chair yelling across the entire floor about his phone. The time Ziva was dancing like Shakira, the time Abby was threatening death over who stole her chocolate cupcake, and the time Tony and McGee were facing each other without their shirts. Not to mention the time they were all wearing parts of some kind of fluffy blue elf-lord costume of McGee's. So when Gibbs turned the corner on the night of the missing marine and burnt up wife, he really wasn't all the surprised.

A picture of Ziva in a bikini, taken while she and Tony were in Los Angeles, was displayed on the plasma. Agent David herself had McGee under a headlock that was causing his face to turn red. Tony was crouching behind his desk, his head cowering in front of his computer monitor. Upon seeing their boss walk in however, the miniature chaos disbanded and everyone straightened up. Tony's snickering and McGee's gasping for air were the only sounds heard. Gibbs shook his head and walked over to his desk, head-slapping McGee as he went.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Thought she told you to delete that McGee." Tony's laughter got louder. "DiNozzo, take that down for god's sake."

Ziva's smirk dripped of smugness as she walked back to her own desk. "Thankyou, Gibbs." The silver haired marine was saved having to answer by the ring of his phone. He hoped to god it was a lead, maybe Abby with results on the fine dust found all over the crime scene, or a witness with a sighting of Roger Mills. But no. It was his neighbours. Damn. They must have thought of something else.

"Hello - hello, is this NCIS agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"

Said agent pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too late for this. "Yeah. What can I do for you?"

"Oh! Oh, thank goodness, see George, I told you I dialled the right number!

"What's happened Mrs Walmsley?"

"You won't believe this agent! It's almost exciting, like we're in one of those ridiculous spy movies - "

"Mrs Walmsley."

"There are two men next door Agent Leroy sir! They're going through the house, or what's left of the house, it's not really much, but they're searching through it, they went under the restrictive tape and everything!"

This had Gibbs' attention. "Ok, Mrs Walmsley, stay inside and we'll be there soon."

"Oh, oh, agent! Could I make a citizen's arrest? Are they real? Do people do that? I have an umbrella I could use against them - "

"You and your husband stay inside, and do not interact with them." With that Gibbs hung up and looked at his curious team. "We got some guys going through our crime scene. Let's go." With that he headed to the elevator, knowing his loyal team would be right on his heels.

Gibbs turned onto the street of the burnt down house, ignoring the groan of Tim's stomach. These two strangers could be a lead. They really needed a lead. He screeched to a stop, the headlights briefly flashing over the crime scene and the shadows of two people trying to blend in. He stepped out, the rest of the team following suit. They shone their torches on the two men, guns coming up and pointed by steady hands.

"Get on your feet! Hands above your head!" Shouted Gibbs, his torch temporarily blinding the young man with short hair and light stubble.

The two men slowly stood, their hands above their heads as instructed. They both seemed unusually calm for the current situation. That was never a good sign.

"Uh-uh, don't get any ideas Chris Pine," said Tony mockingly as the shorter man's eyes flicked past them to the road. McGee spared him a glance more obvious then an annoyed sigh before focusing on the taller guy. For the one pointing the gun, Tim couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the man with the square shoulders and resigned face. Ziva managed to keep her cool, even after a realisation.

"Gibbs! I've seen this guys before! They were here earlier when we were conducting the investigation!"

"Hey, I remember you!" That was the shorter guy, his face widening into an only slightly strained grin. "What happened to the bun? You looked good with your hair up." Tony took a few steps closer, being sure to cock his gun loud enough for the wise-guy to hear.

"Dean!" snapped the other man.

"Relax," Dean muttered back, "you know the drill." Gibbs definitely didn't like the sound of that. He too cocked his gun and shouted for them to put their hands behind their backs. They did so compliantly and McGee and Tony walked up to cuff them. It was Tony that was hit first.

There was a cry of pain as the one called Dean grabbed DiNozzo's arm and twisted, disarming him of the gun. The taller man didn't hesitate in taking on McGee, his long arms flinging out and grabbing the once probie by the neck and flinging him down to the ground. McGee grunted, winded, as Gibbs and Ziva prepared to open fire.

"Hold it!" Dean held Tony's own gun against his head, causing the other agents to freeze in their tracks. Tony's face was dark and angry under the light of the moon - this shit just got personal. Not that he could do much about it now. "Ok, I want you to point that gun away from him, right now," he said in a low voice to Ziva. She slowly lowered her weapon away from the partner in crime's face. Gibbs reluctantly did the same. "Great. Sammy, start walking." So broad-shoulders had a name too.

Sam looked meaningfully at Dean before hesitantly taking a step forward, away from winded McGee and back towards the road. Dean began to follow him, turning so that he was always facing the other agents, dragging Tony along with him. They had almost made it to the road, Gibbs fuming at dangerous levels, when the night lit up with the crack of a shot fired. The bullet hit its mark and Dean went down.

* * *

**Ohhh, cliffhanger :D Sorry if the end was unsatisfying, it was hard to write. It felt like the dilemma of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable obect. I'll try to make the next chapter longer. Please, please tell me if there's a way I can improve, I live for criticism. Ok, hope you liked.**


	4. Nothing But Trouble

**You guyyysss! I've been so encouraged by all your reviews! You are just too kind, really! I especially liked the comment about someone banging their head against the keyboard. Call me cruel, but that's the kind of effect you want from a cliffhanger. I originally meant to make that chapter longer, but I sort of stumbled across that cliffhanger and decided to be a little mean *insert evil laugh here*. I'm a bit happier with this chapter, hopefully you guys like it too, but I'm always looking for constructive criticism, or any mistakes I've made, so don't don't hold back k! I'm going hiking/camping tomorrow, so it might be a while before I upload again. You know, if I survive. But I'll try not to take too long! Ok, I'll stop the rambling now, enjoy!**

**Dedicated to Tosca's Prayer.**

Mr and Mrs Walmsley stood side by side looking out their bedroom window to watch the commotion on the destroyed lot next door. The two trespassers had been cornered by Agent Gibbs and his team. It seemed they would be taken in and the long-married couple could go back to lying in bed. Perhaps have a cup of tea and play some charades to settle down. Marge Walmsley shuddered as adrenaline ran through her veins. This was the most excitement she'd had in years. She was _sure_ it couldn't be good for her.

"Oh no!" exclaimed George as one of the intruders gained the upper hand, disarming one of the agents and pulling a gun against him. Marge gasped and watched on, secretly praying there would be no damage done to that handsome face. They both jumped as the other man - they were probably involved in some kind of delinquent gang - brought another agent down with ease.

"Oh dear, George, they seem like pros," said Marge worriedly. "What if they're assassins? What if we're next? Maybe we've seen too much!"

"Now calm down, Margie, this isn't that kind of neighbourhood, you know that. I'm sure they're just on steroids, or something…" The men had begun to back away, one still holding the handsome agent hostage, when husband and wife both let out an almighty scream to accompany the crack of gunfire that echoed through the night. They covered their ears as one of the trespassers crumpled to the ground. Lights went on in houses all along the street accompanied with more yells and shouts. A gun shot was so much louder then on those violent tv shows. The married couple ducked down under the window and hugged each other, not wanting to watch anymore. Marge nudged closer to her husband and held onto him tightly, hearing a yell above all the others as she shut her eyes tight.

"Dean!"

* * *

McGee lowered his gun to lie next to him on the ground, not quite ready to sit up himself. He watched as Dean fell away from Tony and to the ground with a cry of pain, accompanied by his partner - Sam? - yelling "Dean!" Tony turned and reached for his gun still held by the wounded suspect, ready to regain control of the situation. But he wasn't prepared for Sam's counterattack. McGee saw the tall man charge for Tony, and only had a moment's warning -

"Tony, look out!" But it was too late. Tony was tackled to the ground and the two men fell into a tangle of attempts to get the upper hand. Ziva closed in, yelling at Sam to move away now, but she couldn't get a clear shot with Tony in the way.

Gibbs went straight to Dean and aimed the gun at his head, stopping Dean cold in his attempts to crawl away. He'd taught McGee well - a bullet in the leg, right above the knee, to incapacitate but not kill the suspect. Said suspect appeared to be taking to it quite well, other then a few grunts of pain and a pale face, Dean might as well have just tripped. This only strengthened Gibbs' gut feeling as he dragged Dean to his feet and cuffed his hands behind his back. These guys were no ordinary citizens. Gibbs held Dean by the arm in a vice-like grip as he turned to see how his other agents were doing. McGee was standing again, but just like Ziva, he was unable to help DiNozzo without getting in the way. It seemed Sam was getting the better of the senior field agent. Tony got a good slam to the face, but repaid the favour to Sam's stomach. Gibbs needed to take control. He made a snap decision to trust his gut.

Pulling his gun up and resting it against Dean's temple (who flinched slightly), Gibbs simply shouted out in his usual directness, "Hey!"

Sam chanced a look in his direction and froze, his fist millimetres from Tony's nose. Gibbs saw a range of emotions cross the young man's face. Relief, probably that Dean hadn't been shot anywhere critical. Then panic, anger, and resignation. Slowly Sam raised his hands, palms up, as a sign of peace. He backed away from Tony, his eyes on Gibbs the entire time. Tony breathed a sigh of relief as Ziva made her move, grabbing his hands and putting them behind his back in one swift motion.

Gibbs lowered the gun, his mind racing. If these had been any kind of professionals, perhaps the ones who had kidnapped Sergeant Mills, they wouldn't stop at a threat to the other. They'd be cold, calculating, and get the job (whatever that job was) done. But then, if they were just curious civilians, they wouldn't have been nearly so skilled in fighting, or so determined to escape. These two strangers were a mix of the two, an enigma that made Gibbs uneasy. His gut knew this was going to bring trouble.

An ambulance blared into sight, rolling up to the grass with its lights flashing. One of the neighbours must have called and reported the gunshot. Ziva looked around to notice small groups of people from the surrounding houses standing by their front door or looking nervously out their window. The sun had just begun to peek into view, and early morning joggers also stopped at the sight before them. There was a silent but collective sigh from the group of strangers on the lot. None of them were happy about once again drawing attention to their activities, if for different reasons. It was time to move out.

"Agent DiNozzo, David, go with him to the hospital, get his leg fixed up," ordered Gibbs, nodding to Dean. "Then I want him straight to interrogation."

"Yes boss," replied Tony, scrambling to his feet. Ziva grabbed Dean and they headed to ambulance and waiting medics.

"Don't let him out of your sight," their leader called out after them. McGee had a hold on Sam, doing his best to cover any nerves this man made him feel.

"McGee, we'll bring this one straight to base and see what he knows." McGee nodded, attempting to ignore the small scoff that escaped their captive's lips. They ducked the suspect into the back of the car just as the ambulance pulled away. Gibbs watched it turn the corner, that uneasy feeling only increasing. He attempted to shake it off as he got in the car. He had his best agents watching that one.

* * *

In interrogation room one, their tall and muscular suspect sat calmly, appearing deep in thought. McGee, Abby and Gibbs all studied him from behind the glass, subconsciously tilting their head as one. This was a hard man to figure out. Even Gibbs was having a hard time getting a read on him. His name was Sam. He cared for his partner, who's name was Dean. He was well trained in combat, as was Dean. That was about all they'd managed to learn. As the silent onlookers observed him, Sam began scratching absently at the desk, sighed, and hummed an obscure tune. Obviously not one to be intimidated by federal buildings. Quite probably not his first time in one. Well, at least that was something they could find out.

"Alright Abby, let's get his prints. I want to know everything there is to know about him," muttered Gibbs. Abby nodded. "And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. He tries anything funny, he'll taste carpet." Abby nodded again.

"Let's do it boss-man!" Abby didn't feel scared by their suspect. She'd heard of how he took on both Tim and Tony, and of course she'd felt her usual panic and rage at that. But looking at him through the glass, the resentment melted away and all she felt was curiosity. He had a big, strong (totally hot) build, sure, but he just seemed so gentle. He had soft, docile eyes. She didn't see the darkness Gibbs could see lurking behind the serenity. She just saw a tall, quiet, handsome stranger with a mysterious past. Admittedly, the cheerful Goth was a little excited to meet him.

Gibbs and Abby exited the observation room and made the short trip to interrogation, McGee staying behind. No use overcrowding. Gibbs swung open the door and walked right up to Sam, who took the famous glare unfazed.

Abby bobbed on her heels as Gibbs gave him the usual 'Try Anything And Get Your Ass Whooped' speech. Sam just smiled sarcastically and raised his right hand, which was cuffed to the chair.

"Can't really do much anyway, while you've got me chained." Gibbs just continued to glare and stepped to the other side of Sam to make room for Abby, who walked forward with her beloved fingerprint kit. Sometimes when she was bored in her lab, Abby would ink her own fingers and make abstract pictures on the wall. It was one of her favourite forensic tools. It was possible to scan his fingerprints electronically these days, but Abby had insisted on going the old fashioned way. She pulled Sam's left hand up gently and began pressing his fingertips into the ink and then down onto the paper, one at a time. His hand was warm and calloused, and he just went with the motions, focusing his attention back onto Gibbs.

"How's my b - the guy I was with? He doing alright?"

Gibbs was silent for a moment before answering, "He's getting fixed up at the hospital. Should be locked up right next to you by the end of the day." Sam just gave a small smile and nodded, letting out a breath of relief. This only strengthened Abby's view of him. Surely he was just a nice guy in a bad situation?

"And your agent, the one I winded, is he ok?" This caused Abby to pause as she looked from Sam to Gibbs, who was just staring poker faced at the man. Their suspects usually didn't check on the health of someone they'd beaten before being arrested.

It was Abby who answered this time. "Yeah, he's fine. You've gotta do more then that to knock McGee down!" She even grinned as she said this, moving onto his right hand, which was a bit trickier considering it was chained to the chair.

Almost to her surprise, Sam smiled back. "Good." They fell silent again until Abby finished getting his prints and moved away, Gibbs minutely relaxing as she did. Abby was almost out the door when Sam called out, "I like your tattoo." Abby looked back at him and he gestured towards his neck as an example. "The spider web. Cool stuff." He grinned, flashing her a friendly grin.

Abby couldn't help but once again grin back. "Thanks!" With that she left and headed down the hall to the elevator, Tim practically jumping out of observation to stop her.

"Abby, you shouldn't get so friendly with him." McGee's face was worried. "He may not look it, but that's a dangerous guy."

"Oh come on, McGee, he's not exactly a terrorist."

"Looks can be deceiving Abs, you of all people should know that."

"I bet his record will be shorter then your hair, Tim. If he even has a record." With that Abby continued on her way, certain this guy had nothing to do with the death of a woman and the disappearance of her husband. It was all a big misunderstanding. Perhaps once it was cleared up, she could invite him out so she could show off more of her tattoos. With that exciting thought, Abby stepped into the elevator, her fingerprinting kit cradled in her arms.

* * *

Timothy McGee watched after Abby, attempting to push down his concern for her blind faith, before walking back into observation and closing the door quietly. Gibbs couldn't hear him from across the glass, of course, but it didn't stop McGee from being gentle with the handle. That was Gibbs. Intimidating enough to make you worry about pissing him off when he wasn't even there to get angry. And everyone knew how adamant their boss was with rule number 22.

But Sam was doing surprisingly well for the beginning of the interrogation, which as usual involved Gibbs staring down the suspect with a look that could - and had before - stop monsters in their path. Sam just leaned back on the chair and kept his gaze, as if already bored. It was about 5 minutes before he spoke.

"So, the guy I was with, he's being brought here afterwards?" No response. Tim smirked. Sam would crack eventually. They always did. Sam sighed at the lack of answer, but wasn't quite ready to give up. "You found much out about the fire yet? Any sign of the guy that went missing?" Tim's eyes narrowed, as did Gibbs'. What was this guy playing at? Was he mocking them? Tim didn't think he looked that amused, more like curious. Genuinely curious. The younger agent watched as Gibbs stood up and began to pace back and forth behind Sam, so he could only catch glimpses out of the corner of his eye.

"That depends on what you can tell me. What information have you got to share?" Gibbs' voice was quiet, calm, but deadly. Anyone could pick up on the underlying threat that laced each word. Sam remained cool as a cucumber though.

"Hey, I got nothing. We were just exploring the rubble. Anyone would be curious about a house fire that needs investigating by federal agents. My friend and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." Sam paused. "Speaking of federal agents, what kind of G-men are you? What does NCIS stand for?"

Gibbs ignored the question. "You were pretty desperate to escape for amateur investigators."

Sam shrugged. "Having a bunch of guys in coats with guns run up to you from an unmarked car, and you'd be keen on getting away too."

Gibbs continued to pace. "You fought pretty well for ordinary civilians."

"What can I say, I just love to throw down." This last comment from Sam was sarcastic enough. There was another pause. "Ok, so FBI stands for Federal Bureau of Investigation… CIA is Central Intelligence Agency… NCIS… Hmmm…" Sam tapped his free hand against the table thoughtfully.

Gibbs came back around to face him, still patient and calculating. Tim knew he'd had tougher, not to mention more annoying, nuts to crack. Gibbs wasn't ready to lose his cool. He dropped pictures of the burnt down crime scene and the charred human remains on to the table, one by one. This gained yet another unexpected reaction from the suspect. Instead of shying away or dropping his eyes, like so many others had done when confronted with crime scene pictures, Sam leaned forward and looked at each one closely, inspecting the pictures with narrowed eyes. His finger traced a picture of the caved in bedroom, apparently paying close attention to the broken fragments of a purple lamp.

Gibbs watched silently, Tim trying desperately to figure out what this guy was up to and drawing a blank. All three men were distracted, however, by Gibbs' phone going off. He opened it up and answered without taking his eyes off Sam.

"Yeah, Abby."

"Gibbs! I got a match!"

"That was quick."

"Yeah, it wasn't hard to find him. You aren't going to believe this! You've gotta get down here!"

"Alright Abs, I'm on my way." Gibbs hung up and spared Sam one more scrutinous glance before leaving him with the photos. He ducked in to the neighbouring room to tell McGee to keep an eye on the suspect, before heading for the elevator. His gut churned as the familiar metal box flowed smoothly down. There was no way Abby could have gotten a match this fast unless it was something big.

And boy, was it big.

"I don't believe it Gibbs! He seemed so… so normal!" Even Jethro himself was surprised at the record in front of him. It was of one Sam Winchester, and it was insane. It had a bit of everything, from breaking and entering and fraud to grave desecration and accessory to murder. This guy had it all, and the FBI wanted him. They wanted him bad.

Abby continued her shocking discovery. "There's more! Look at this!" Minimising that window, Abby opened up another one. "Was this the guy with him?" Gibbs nodded, eyes scanning the page. "It's his brother Gibbs! Dean Winchester. And his record's just as bad, except - " she pointed out the word 'Murder' at the top. "Slightly worse. Only just. These guys are pros. It's no coincidence they were at your crime scene, because in the words of our fearless leader," she deepened her voice "I don't believe in coincidences."

"This is good works Abs. I owe you a Caf-Pow." Gibbs muttered as his phone lit up again. Damn, what now?

"We have a problem," came Ziva's voice from the other end. "We, ah… We lost the suspect Gibbs."

"You what?" he snapped, glancing back at the screen displaying one of the FBI's most wanted, most dangerous.

"He got away as they finished operating. I know about rule 6, but perhaps you will want to make an exception."

"Damn. Find him and get him back. Now!" Gibbs hung up and stormed out of the lab, Abby staring worriedly behind him. He slammed the button to the elevator, his mind already going over a dozen possibilities of what to do next.

This whole case was nothing but trouble.

**Oh, another fun fact. I watched the SPN season finale a few days ago. I thought they did really well with Purgatory, making it look so creepy! But it was so annoying as I already knew what was going to happen. Thanks to this website. Damn you FanFiction! I only had to look at summaries to learn what would happen. How frustrating, I hate spoilers. BUT YAY FOR THE IMPALA'S RETURN! You have no idea how happy that made me.**

**Ok, please, please point out any mistakes for me, let me know if you're enjoying it :) Also, I'd really love to know one thing, am I making the length of the chapters ok? I can't tell if I'm making them too long or short, so let me know.**

**Ciao for now!**


	5. What Now?

**Ok, bad news. My hike/camp was cut short. Good news? I suddenly had all this extra time to write the next chapter! Yay! But don't get too excited. This chapter will annoy you, I'm warning you now. You see, it ends on another cliffhanger about Dean. I know, been there and done that, I wasn't originally planning to leave it there, but my good friend Tosca's Prayer inisted on having this chapter end with dramatic music. So you can blame her :) I swear I'll make it up to you in the next one.**

**Also! Thanks so much for the reviews guys! I get uber excited everytime I get another one, it's sad really. And I know this answer is way late, but to the person who asked if there was going to be a bit of Dean/Ziva going on, I don't actually know yet. So it'll be a surprise for everyone!**

Dean pushed open the hospital emergency exit, taking no time to enjoy the sudden warmth of daylight as he began to limp away. He glanced at his leg as he almost-ran away. The gaping hole in his jeans the surgeon had cut to get the bullet out gave Dean a good view of the handiwork. The injured hunter almost smiled as he made it to a grey Sedan parked at the back of the building. It wasn't very often his injuries were fixed up by professionals. It would have been a refreshing change, if not for the fact that he was on the run (again) and Sam was in custody (again). Dean smashed the car window open, not having the time for subtlety, and painfully slid into the driver's seat. He had slipped away as soon as they'd gotten him off the operating table, but those agents were pros. He couldn't afford to take his time getting away. Hotwiring the car, Dean's mind went into overdrive. Have to save Sam, have to escape, have to find the Demon, have to save Sam, have to get this damn car working… The car came to life with an encouraging, if not slightly dusty, growl, and Dean made his way back to the main road, just as he saw the two feds burst out of the emergency exit and running after him, their guns up. But they were too late. Dean smirked and gave them a mock salute he wasn't sure they could see as he drove away, Agent Dah-Veed or whatever pulling out her phone.

"Enjoy breaking that one to the boss," muttered Dean as he picked up speed.

Two hours later, Dean was sitting on a rusty chair in an old warehouse by the docks, and he wasn't feeling so cocky. He needed a plan of action, and he was having trouble getting one. Whoever those guys holding Sam were, whatever NCIS was, they were up there with the FBI. Just less TV shows and conspiracy theories about them, it seemed. He had no idea where their building was - maybe opposite the Hoover building? - and if he did, he had no idea how to get in and back out with Sam while going unnoticed. Then, to top it all off, there were no leads on Yellow-Eyes, and the trail was getting colder every minute they weren't investigating. How did these cases always go to hell?

At least Dean had one advantage. His cell lit up, playing that catchy rock tune Sam always rolled his eyes at, and Dean picked up before the second note could play.

"Ash! Tell me you got something."

"Come on dude, you offend me." Dean grinned. Who knew you could put so much faith in an MIT reject with constant beer breath and the mother of mullets. "Alright, here's what I've found out. Washington was dead quiet till like three days ago, when omens suddenly started spewing out like my mom on her birthday. Electrical storms, a hell of a load of strange deaths, no cattle mutilations what with there being no farms in the centre of the city, but dead dogs have been showing up everywhere, there was this article some nut job wrote on illegal animal testing, the government putting drugs in dog food." There was a pause. "He might be onto something there, actually."

"Come on Ash, what else?"

"NCIS, your buddies with your brother. Stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service, they're like the FBI of marines. Pretty hard core stuff to, seems they're renowned for their operations and what-not, closed more cases the past few years then any of the other government agencies." That wasn't good news. Seems getting Sam out was going to be even harder then expected. "Seems they're not very popular with their brothers in investigative arms too, I can see hints of a lot of conflict. They've had problems with everyone from the local LEOS and National Coast Guard to the FBI and even the creepy critters of the CIA."

"You got a location for me?"

"Yeah, but man, you gotta think about this one. The security is tight, and if the internet rumours be true, some of the agents in there are freakin psycho." Dean didn't bother asking where he got these rumours from.

"Alright, look, get me as much info on NCIS as you can, and see if you can help me out with the security."

"Sure thing compadre."

"Thanks man." Dean put the cell down and began pacing around the chair. He had to be smart about this. But there was another problem. When he finally did get Sam out of the narrow-minded law's clutches, they were going to have a lot more trouble tracking Yellow-Eyes. The smart thing to do when escaping custody was to head right out of town and to another state. It was worrying, Dean thought, that 'escaping custody' was now such a casual occurrence. But they couldn't just give up on finding that hell-bastard. So what could they do? What could Dean do?

He could go over what he knew, so that's exactly what Dean did. The house they'd investigated before being so rudely interrupted was definitely the remains of a Yellow-Eyes appearance. The stench of rotten eggs, of sulphur, had been strong in the air to accompany to fine layer of the chemical. Sam had described as much about the house of his vision as he could, right down to the purple lamp next to the bed. The brothers had seen human remains being stowed away into an official truck, so there was proof the woman had died. No sign of her husband. Why should there be? Sam's visions hadn't been wrong yet. Dean still couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

So, why had Yellow-Eyes gone hunting for a new body? Why had he left the old one, that seemed to fit him so well? And where the hell was he going next? This wasn't adding up, and it was driving Dean crazy. He rubbed his eyes and wiped his face automatically with his hand, as if trying to sweep away exhaustion and see things from a new perspective. When his hand came away and Dean looked up, he swore and automatically reached for the Colt, which had of course been taken off him by the Feds. Those damned Feds. There in front of Dean stood a man with murky yellow eyes and a grin so evil it was recognizable no matter the meat suit. This must have been the missing staff sergeant.

Well, that was certainly a new perspective.

* * *

Sam, still sitting in Interrogation 1 with his hand cuffed to the chair, was bored. He was frustrated, worried, and bored. He didn't even know if that kind of combination was possible. If not, congratulations, you've created an all new emotion he thought bitterly. He tapped his free hand irritably against the table. He wondered if Dean was alright, though he had faith his bigger brother was doing just fine. Probably making some wise ass remarks to the agents that were holding him. Even more likely trying to pick up Agent David. Unless he'd already escaped? Sam smiled slightly. Nothing could be put past Dean.

Sam looked back to the pictures Agent Gibbs had left with him. He had been unable to pick up any new clues, except that the wife had definitely been burnt alive, judging by the remains. Whoever was examining the bones right now must have been perplexed. Another ten minutes went by. Where had the steely-eyed man gone? Abby, the surprisingly friendly Goth girl, had probably found his record. His FBI most wanted record. Sam made a mental note to talk to Ash about that later, see if there wasn't something the computer whiz could do about those charges on file. They were always so inconvenient. He wondered if NCIS were planning to hand him over to the other agency.

Sam's mind wandered. NCIS… He knew he'd heard that name somewhere before, and it was killing him not remembering. Sam hated being fuzzy on any kind of detail. NCIS… New, no, Night, no -

Agent Gibbs stormed back in, leaving any pleasantries at the door.

"Naval!" Sam exclaimed. "You guys are with the Navy, right?" He knew he'd heard of them somewhere. His dad must have mentioned them, when telling one of his old marine stories. It actually explained a lot. This guy really did remind him of John. Sam felt the slightest twang of sadness, one that emerged whenever he thought of his dad these days.

Gibbs ignored Sam's revelation and, as usual, got right down to business. He leaned forward and put his face right in front of Sam's.

"You're brother, where is he?"

Yep, they'd found the records. Joy. Then Sam caught on to what the Agent was really saying.

"So he escaped? Damn. I had a bet with him on who could get away first next time this happened." Sam attempted to keep up the carefree attitude of his brother, one that always seemed to work well for the eldest Winchester. It wasn't too hard to pretend though - Sam wasn't all that worried, to be honest, having gotten a bit used to the whole locked-up-but-soon-gone-again routine. And really, he was a bit sick of it. A bit of attitude was granted in his situation, he felt. Not to mention the bet actually was true. He owed Dean $20.

"Where did he go?"

Sam just sighed and looked up at the older man.

"What were you doing at my crime scene?" Agent Gibbs was raising his voice now. He was pissed. Well, too bad for him, Sam wasn't easily intimidated by yelling ex-marines (Sam recognised the characteristics). He hadn't been since the first time he'd talked back to his own dad. Again, there was a twinge of guilt, but Sam blatantly ignored it.

"You listen to me," growled Gibbs, his eyes laser focused on Sam's. "There will be no easy escape here. You tell me where your brother is or I hand you over to the FBI right now. There's an Agent Henrickson who's just dying to have a chat." Ah, so they'd gotten in contact with their old friend. That wasn't going to help. That guy was way too obsessed for his own good. Sam just sighed again and rubbed his head. He wished Gibbs would leave him alone. The shouting and growling was making his head hurt.

"I've got you, Sam. And I'll get Dean. The only question is how? Do you tell me where to find him and we lock him up, or do I have to find him myself and risk the chance of putting a bullet in his head?"

That was too far. "You hurt my brother and I swear to god it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Gibbs smirked and sat down across from him. It seemed he'd found Sam's weak point. Sam, however, had no room in his head to be worried. No, now his mind was full of nothing but pain, and it threatened to burst right out of his skull. He gasped, digging his hands into his eyes, bending forward so his chained hand could reach. He looked back up at Gibbs and attempted to talk,

"You - " but his vision blurred at the edges and he knew what was coming next.

"Crap," Sam moaned as the vision invaded his mind.

_Dean stood by an old chair in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. The silence was only broken by a recurring sound outside, the sound of waves crashing and seagulls squawking. Dean stood perfectly still, his hand hovering behind his back as if reaching for something. Across from him, standing partially in the shadows, was Sergeant Mills, his eyes giving off the glow of yellow paint. Yellow-Eyes grinned at the wary Dean._

_"What's the matter my boy? Not happy to see an old friend?"_

_"Not the word I was going for," Dean snarled._

_"Oh Dean," the Demon put a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt."_

_Dean's eyes flicked around the warehouse, trying to formulate a plan, one that involved him getting out of there alive. He'd wanted so bad to catch up with Yellow-Eyes for so long, but not like this. Not when he was so unprepared. This wasn't how it was supposed to end._

_"Calm down, little rabbit, no need to go scampering off just yet." Yellow-Eyes took a step forward, away from the eerie shadows. "I'm here to talk."_

_Dean almost laughed, settling for a small scoff instead. But his eyes remained narrowed and angry. Ready for anything. Almost anything._

_"I'm serious. I wanted to talk to you. I would have preferred Sam, but, well, he's a bit busy at the moment, and I hate causing unnecessary scenes. I just got this guy, and I don't want to blow my new cover by jumping right into the middle of a federal building. It's all about appearances these days Dean." The Demon sighed as if the fact saddened him. Perhaps it did. He was a tough asshole to figure out._

_"And what the hell would you want to talk to me about?"_

_"I need you to pick up your game my boy. You and Sam are getting a bit rusty, and I need you - well Sam, anyway, to bring you're A-game." Yellow-Eyes smiled at the mention of Sam, sending an involuntary shiver down Dean's spine._

_"What the hell are you talking about? You stay away from Sam you son of a bitch!" Dean was tense, still looking for an opening to escape. But the Demon now had his attention._

_"Oh, you know me, Dean, I hate to give away the spoilers. Now, get Sam outta there and get with the training, huh? Those vampires, and werewolves, and whatever else it is you waste your time on, aren't going to destroy themselves!"_

_"What are you planning? What's your sick little end game here?" Yellow-Eyes just smiled. Dean tried something else. "What happened to your old meat suit, huh? Why'd you have to go and destroy another family? What, the old guy went out of fashion or something?"_

_The Demon grimaced at this. "I'm afraid there was a slight complication with my old appearance. Poor man was coming apart at the seams. You humans have such weak bodies…" He broke out of his reverie. "Nothing for you to worry about though, Dean my boy. You just get back to sharpening Sammy's skills, and we can go our separate ways as friends." He grinned, showing crooked teeth under wrinkles and stubble._

_"Let me get this through your thick skull, you dick." Dean was extremely pissed. "I won't do anything for you, and neither will Sam. You hear me?" He took a step forward, momentarily forgetting his plans of escape. "You can't have him! I won't let you touch him! Forget about whatever sick plans you have for my brother, because you're never going near Sam again!"_

_There was a pause, as the two figures stared each other down. Yellow-Eyes was no longer smiling. He glared at Dean, expression still, contemplating. The seagulls raised a ruckus outside, as if fighting to fill the uneasy silence._

_Eventually, Yellow-Eyes sighed. "You're going to be such a nuisance. I hate to think what this will do for Sam and I, but I no longer think I have a choice." Yellow-Eyes took a step forward and waved his hand. With a sickening crunch, Dean's head twisted around and he fell to the floor, dead and still._

"No!" cried Sam as he came to, back to the interrogation room with the impossibly large mirror and the constantly angry Agent Gibbs. But now there were two agents in the room, Agent McGee standing by the open door. Gibbs was standing by Sam warily. Sam looked around and pulled himself to his feet, having fallen off the chair, which almost lifted off the ground being chained to his wrist.

"It's ok, McGee, no need to call anyone," muttered Gibbs, never once taking his eyes off Sam. The younger agent closed his phone and stared at Sam, confused. They were probably trying to figure out if it had been a trick or not. Not that Sam had time to worry about that.

"Listen, please, you have to listen to me," rambled Sam, desperate to save his brother. "I know where my brother is, I'll tell you, ok? Just please, get him, now."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "That migraine give you a change of heart?"

"Look, if we don't get my brother back - " Sam paused, unwilling to say it.

"What?"

"He's going to die."

**DRAMATIC MUSIC**

**Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I already ended a chapter like this, why do it again, that's just silly etc etc. Sorry about that :) Like I said, I will try to make it up to you next chapter, I swear! And anyway, we all know Sam and Dean swoop in like superheroes and prevent the visions from coming true (usually) so it's really not that bad of a cliffhanger, right?**


	6. Unlikely Saviours

**Oh lookie here, a new chapter! Sorry it took me so long, had a bit of trouble with motivation. Please let me know what you think.**

**BY THE WAY. I watched an old episode of NCIS yesterday, the one where Tony's framed for murder. You know, the first time. Poor guy doesn't have much luck. ANYWAYS, the FBI agent, Agent Sax, he reminded me of Agent Henricksen from Supernatural. So I was thinking, what if I made them the same guy? Then Tony, Gibbs and the rest would hate him almost as much as Dean and Sam do. Something to bond over perhaps? Let me know your opinion.**

"Hey McGee. We miss much?" Tony and Ziva walked into observation as Gibbs began to lose his temper on the other side of the glass. Tony couldn't help but be glad their boss had gone back to the suspect before seeing him. Almost as grateful as he was when it was Ziva that called Gibbs to tell him the other man had escaped.

"You have no idea," replied Tim. He turned to look at his partners, his face drawn and looking five years older then when they'd last seen him that morning. "The guy you lost - "

"We didn't lose him," growled Tony, as Ziva attempted to hide the guilt on her face. "He just… Momentarily slipped away."

McGee wasn't in the mood. "Whatever Tony, the point is he's insane. And wanted. By the FBI."

"Great," sighed Ziva, "Fornell will be sure to have a meadow day."

"Ziva, it's field. Field day. Think about these things, please," whined Tony. Secretly he was always delighted when she got her English mixed up.

"Tony, I speak five languages - "

"So you keep telling us."

"So excuse me if I occasionally get a few words mixed up!"

"A few words? Try half the freakin' lang-"

"Guys!" McGee interrupted, an uncharacteristically stern expression on his face. "Dean Winchester, wanted for murder, theft, breaking and entering, grave desecration, fraud and a crap load of other charges got away this morning! That," Tim pointed aggressively to the man behind the mirror, who was now apparently threatening Gibbs, "is his brother, Sam, who's rap sheet is just as bad! We need to focus!"

Tony and Ziva stared at Sam Winchester, the supposed lunatic, silenced by the revelation. Tony couldn't tell if he was surprised or not. Obviously the guy was dangerous, what with the way he'd taken down McGee and - ahem - momentarily gotten the better of himself, and the way he was glaring at Gibbs now was pretty scary. But he just seemed so… Sane. Down to earth. Surely not your every day FBI most wanted.

Well, mostly sane. As the team watched, Sam gasped and palmed his eyes as if trying to keep them in his skull. He looked up again, tried to say something to the silently watching Gibbs, but looked away again, his face scrunched up in pain. They heard a slightly muffled curse escape Sam before he slid to the ground, almost bringing the chair he was chained to with him. Gibbs stood up, glanced back at the mirror and looked down at the now twitching man. McGee walked out and stepped into the other room, asking if he should call for an ambulance. Tony could see the indecision on the older man's face. He looked to Sam who was silent but constantly moving, writhing. The suspect - no, the criminal - didn't seem to be actually unconscious. More like he wasn't aware of the world around him. It was like he was lost somewhere else, and wherever he'd gone, it was painful. Ok, so maybe this guy wasn't totally normal.

Unless he was faking. This Sam Winchester could just be a very convincing actor - possibly why he and his brother always seemed to escape custody at the last moment. So Tony looked on, silent, waiting for Gibbs to make a decision. He knew their boss would go with his gut. He always did.

"Ok, McGee, call an ambulance, warn them he's a dangerous fugitive. Advise we'll provide protection." Tim nodded as Gibbs stepped closer to the shuddering man, but both agents were cut short by Sam's reawakening.

"No!" he cried out, sitting up like someone had just electrocuted him. His eyes were wild and haunted. The agents stared as Sam stood up, trying to regain his balance. Tony tensed, feeling Ziva do the same; they were ready to step in should Sam continue his psychotic break on the others. Gibbs reassured Tim to put his phone away, watching Sam warily. Tony could see the signs - tense shoulders, narrowed eyes, the twitch of Gibbs' foot. He was resisting not to pace.

_He's unsure._ That was a scary thought, one that angered DiNozzo. It was unnatural, seeing their boss unsure.

"Listen, please, you have to listen to me. I know where my brother is, I'll tell you, ok? Just please, get him, now." Sam was suddenly pleading with Gibbs, rambling. His whole demeanour had changed. Whatever psychotic episode this wierdo just had, it seemed to have flicked a switch. Gibbs appeared to be thinking along the same lines.

"That migraine give you a change of heart?"

"One hell of a migraine," muttered Ziva cynically. Sam ignored the question.

"Look, if we don't get my brother back - " The man paused and took a breath, his jaw set.

"What?" asked Gibbs. Tony could see he was playing this by ear.

"He's going to die."

"Woah," said Tony, "that's a bit dramatic isn't it?"

"Someone's after him?" Gibbs asked. Sam nodded, his eyes bouncing around the room, his feet constantly shifting. "Sit down." Sam stared at Gibbs disbelievingly.

"Are you kidding me? We need to go, now!"

"_We_ won't be doing anything. But if you sit down and talk to me, we can see about finding your brother." Gibbs knew his team would be thrown off by his gentler then usual approach. If the brothers' records were anything to go by, they didn't deserve any kindness or special treatment. But Jethro knew their weak point was each other, that much he'd already figured out. So if this was how Sam would lead them to Dean, he could play nice. For now. After another deep breath, Sam gave a hesitant nod and set the chair straight, lowering himself tensely into it. He sat on the edge of the chair, apparently refusing to get any more comfortable then that. McGee shut the door but remained in the room, standing by the corner silently.

"Tell me everything you know about Staff Sergeant Roger Mills." Gibbs could see it took all of Sam's self-control not to jump back out of the chair.

"I don't know anything about him."

"No? What were you doing at the crime scene?"

"Investigating." There was an almost missable hesitation before Sam's reply.

"For who?"

By this point Sam began tapping the table with his thumb, his face creasing in frustration. "You've seen our profiles. Take a guess."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, you're criminals. By the looks of things, big cult worshippers." He pulled out a manilla folder he'd taken from Abby's lab and started to leaf through it. "Wherever you go, there are strange deaths, multiple disappearances, even cattle mutilations." Sam sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Says here your mum died when you were just six months old Sam. I bet she would be _real_ proud of you." Sam just shook his head and stared back at Gibbs.

"Look, I'll tell you whatever you want to know, ok? I'll tell you everything. Just please, please let me get my brother first."

"You'd let him get brought into custody?"

"Better then dead," muttered Sam.

"Who's after him?" asked Gibbs, studying Sam's reaction. This stilled the kid for a minute as he appeared to become conflicted about what to say next. But he didn't flinch or look away.

After a moment of likely inner struggle he replied with, "an old enemy. In our… line of work, you meet some real monsters." Sam grimaced at this, as if sharing some sick joke. Gibbs heard a small noise escape McGee. He didn't blame the agent. He too was disgusted they saw what they did as 'work'.

There was another moment of silence as Gibbs contemplated. Finding Dean Winchester was a must. They had to take the risk. "Alright, where's your brother?"

Sam let out a long breath of relief. "Let me show you."

Gibbs laughed and shook his head. "You're funny kid. But no, I think you just give us the directions. We'll find him don't you worry." Sam looked like he would have loved to argue, but it seemed impatience won out.

"Fine. But as soon as I tell you, you have to go, straight away. I'll only talk when I see he's alive and safe." Gibbs nodded and waited for him to continue. "Alright, he'll be at an old warehouse. Somewhere near water… The docks most likely. It's this big old building…" Sam scrunched up his face as if trying to remember details from a dream. "Pretty run down. Rusted. I think it used to hold boats."

Gibbs frowned. It was a strange description, but it made sense. A lot of the old boat sheds had closed down since the new docks had opened up. It was a good place to hide. "Alright McGee, you got that?"

"Yeah." Tim ripped off a piece of paper with the description and handed it to his boss. "We going?"

"No, you stay here. Keep an eye on Winchester. Tony, Ziva, with me." Gibbs patted McGee's back and left the room, his gut churning.

* * *

"You can't have him! I won't let you touch him! Forget about whatever sick plans you have for my brother, because you're never going near Sam again!" Dean's whole body was so tense he'd almost gone into rigamortis. There was Yellow-Eyes standing right in front of him, that sickeningly toothy grin turning into a glare on the Staff Sergeant's face. _He_ was telling _Dean_ how to look after Sam? What kind of messed up mother was he?

The air filled with the sounds of Seagulls making a ruckus outside. Dean stayed rooted to the spot, watching the anger grow within the Demon. Good, he thought. If he was going to die, at least he'd managed to wipe that smug smile off Yellow-Eyes' face first. It had been at the top of his priority list for quite a while now. Finally the Demon sighed, his expression turning almost remorseful.

He began to slowly raise a hand. "You're going to be such a nuisance. I hate to think what this will do for Sam and I but - " Yellow-Eyes was cut short by the bang of a door being kicked open. They both turned to the source of the noise where two men and a woman were entering with guns.

"Freeze! NCIS!" Dean turned back to the Demon, grinning. Of course. Sam would have seen this. _Thanks little brother._

"See ya Dean, ma boy." with a mock wave, Yellow-Eyes took a few steps back into the shadows and was gone. He apparently didn't see the commotion as worth the trouble. Dean had never been more relieved to get captured. He recognised the agents as the same NCIS ones as before. Grinning at the woman, Agent David if he remembered right, Dean sunk to his knees and put his hands behind his head without a fuss.

"Boy am I glad to see your pretty face." She remained stern as she handcuffed him, the two men fanning out to look for Yellow-Eyes, not knowing what they'd really seen. "Even you're a sight for sore eyes right now chuckles," he called out the silver haired man, obviously the leader. Agent DiNozzo continued moving forward, searching, as the older guy - was that a marine hair cut? - came back and stood right over him.

"Where is he?"

"You'll have to be more specific," said Dean brightly as David hauled him to his feet.

"Where'd he go?"

"Look man, I don't know. But he's fast. You're not going to find him here."

"He's right Gibbs! Clear!" DiNozzo's voice drifted back to them from the far end of the warehouse. He jogged back to them. "He's gone."

"Why would Sergeant Mills run away from us? I thought he was the victim here?" questioned Agent David, to no one in particular.

Dean wasn't sure if she heard him mutter a reply under his breath. "Believe me, he is."

**Not my best work, I know. Hope it still lived up to your standards though. Will hopefully update soon :)**


	7. Abby's Theory

**I know, I know, I took way too long, I'm sorry. I hope you guys are still with me. I had a bit of writers block, not to mention to constant assignments being thrown at me and the musical I just finished performing in... Anyway. Here it is, finally, the next chapter. Not a lot happens and but hopefully it's interesting. After all, what's the point of an NCIS/SPN crossover if we don't get to show off the boys' impressive arsenal and their lovely impala? So that's basically what I did here, I guess.**

**Thanks a bunch to all the people reviewing. It means the world. One person actually gave me the idea of killing Azazel in this story instead of going back to Canon. I'm actually considering the idea and to be honest haven't decided yet, so give me your opinion. Also liliaeth, I totally agree, I gained a lot of respect for Henricksen too after Jus In Bello. Unfortunately I'm still going to have to make him the bad guy here, sorry.**

**One more thing; I'm pretty sure the brothers aren't technically supposed to have the Colt, pretty sure Azazel has it in season 2, but I sort of decided to ignore that.**

Ziva led Dean through the metal detector as they entered the NCIS building.

"What, no more pat downs? I wouldn't mind," the captive said, grinning at Ziva. Her jaw tightened and she remained poker face. Ziva knew behind the charm and surprisingly good looks was a monster, just lying in wait. The FBI records were enough to tell her that. But she could see herself the signs of a killer, and not just any moment-of-passion type either, a real professional killer. The way his eyes darted like crazy every time they entered a new room, checking for exits and possible escapes or threats. The way his chained hands occasionally twitched by his waist, as if reaching for a gun was an automatic reflex. The way he held himself, calm and confident in the presence of government officials, making jokes as if he weren't experiencing the end of his life as he knew it. The one thing that bugged Ziva the most was Dean's eyes. They were green like an emerald that had lost its shine. There was wariness, darkness in those eyes. They were haunted. She had noticed this feature more prominently with Sam when observing him through the glass. These brothers must have the most interesting life story, Ziva couldn't help but think to herself.

They had just brought Dean to Interrogation Room 2 when Gibbs' phone rang.

"Yeah, Abby. Ok, we'll be right down." Gibbs hung up and immediately made another call. Soon there were two extra agents standing by the door. "I want an eye on him at all times. Don't give him anything. He needs to hit the head, tell him to do it here," Gibbs told one of the agents.

"Aww come on boss man, don't you trust me?" asked Dean, the mischievous smile never leaving his face. He was of course ignored.

"I want you watching the other one. Relieve McGee," Gibbs ordered the second agent. "He has another fit, you call me."

"Sam? How is he?" asked Dean, jokes momentarily forgotten. Ziva watched the concern that washed over him curiously. "Is he ok?" the fugitive asked after a moment's silence.

"He's fine," muttered Gibbs. With that he walked out, Tony and Ziva close behind, leaving Dean alone with one of the stony faced agents. McGee met them in the hallway.

"What's up boss?"

"Abby's got something." Ziva was relieved to hear those words leave Gibbs' mouth. She was beginning to itch for answers, and she could tell the rest of the team felt the same from the way they all quickened their pace.

* * *

Abby's head was deep in the boot of the shining black Impala when she heard the 'ding' of the elevator. Grinning, she brought one hand up in a wave before going back to picking out fibres and trace remains.

"Whaddya got Abs?" Abby straightened up and faced the agents, barely holding in her excitement.

"A hell of a lot Gibbs." She walked over to her laptop, whirring away in the middle of the evidence garage where she had been inspecting the car that belonged to those mysterious brothers. "I hear you got the older one. Is he as cute as Sam?" McGee cleared his throat and Ziva gave her a worried look.

"Abby, you realise who those men are, do you not?"

"Oh, I do." Abby faced her friend. "I just don't think you do."

"What do you mean Abs?" Gibbs cut in.

"I don't think their bad guys Gibbs. Quite the opposite, actually." Each agent raised their eyebrows as one. This obviously seemed a bit far fetched to them. Abby shook her head and went back to her computer. This was going to be difficult.

"Ok, I figured out what that dust at the crime scene was." Abby brought up a picture of the yellowy brown material. "The biblical brimstone known as sulphur."

"Biblical who now?" asked a confused Tony.

"Well, in the bible sulphur was known as brimstone. It always had something to do with death or tragedy. It was said the four horsemen breathed it, and it was often used when referencing to hell." Abby brought up a religious website and highlighted a particular line from the bible, reading it aloud. "But for the cowardly, unbelieving, sinners, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their part is in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death."

"Sounds fun," muttered Tony. "Sulphur comes from volcanoes doesn't it Abby?"

"Yeah."

"So what the hell was it doing at my crime scene?' growled Gibbs.

"Well, I have a theory, but I'm working up to that. And not just at the house, Gibbs, at the warehouse where you found Dean too."

"So what's the theory?"

"I told you, I'm working up to that," said Abby exasperatedly. "Ok, so there wasn't any accelerant found on Mrs Mills' bones, just like Agent Scully said. Which makes you wonder how on earth - how the _hell_ one might say - could she suddenly burst into flames, right?"

"Right…" the team answered in unison.

"Right. Just remember that," Abby said, pointing at Gibbs. She held his gaze for a moment before whirling around and walking back to the car. "I couldn't find anything else from the evidence at the crime scene. It really is like Sergeant Mills just disappeared into thin air, right?"

"Right…"

"Ok. So, that brings us to the Winchesters' car." Abby turned again and leaned against the cool metal to face the agents.

"No way," breathed Tony. "_This_ is _their_ car?" Abby smiled as Ziva rolled her eyes. She had been waiting for this reaction. "Boss, you realise what this is?" Tony looked at Gibbs who just looked back blankly. "Boss! This is a '67 Chevy Impala! This is a classic!" Tony ran his hand along the top of the car almost lovingly. "It's in great condition too…" Tony turned to Abby. "Hey, um… What's going to happen to this car once the brothers are put away?" He attempted to act casual, like he was simply curious. "Will it go to an impound lot? Or… I don't know, be sold or something?"

Abby smirked, but at a look from Gibbs, continued her briefing. "Ok, so the car. I've looked over every inch of it. It has some interesting features - "

"Of course it does, it's a '67 Chevy Freakin' Impala!" The glee on Tony's face was priceless, until it was smacked down by Gibbs. "Sorry boss."

"Go on Abby."

"Like a toy soldier stuck in the ashtray. I also found some leggo in one of the vents, and some carvings under the upholstery behind the back seats." Tony made a strangled noise from hearing such damage being done to such a car. "They seem to be initials…" Abby opened the back door and leaned back so they could see. "S.W and D.W. Sam and Dean Winchester I'm guessing. Kind of cute isn't it Gibbs?" At this she looked pointedly at their fearless leader, who was beginning to look bored. She was trying to outlay her theory in the best possible way - get all the facts out before he stopped listening.

"I don't think that's real important Abby," said McGee, subtly nodding towards an impatient looking Gibbs.

"Just, remember that ok?" Abby moved to the boot of the car. "This is the really cool part. Just looks like an empty trunk, right? Wrong!" Abby didn't give them time to answer, suddenly in a rush to tell them everything. This next bit was exciting. She lifted up the fake bottom she'd discovered earlier and heard a low whistle from Tony. There was weapon after weapon, a great mass of them cluttering the space. Shotguns, handguns and knives of all sorts. Some of the guns and knives had strange engravings on the handles. Abby opened up a few boxes amongst the mess. One contained a scary amount of bullets and shell casings, another held numerous fake ID's, everything from FBI to Homeland Security to -

"Does that say Bikini Inspector?" asked Tony incredulously. "That actually worked for them?"

Abby listed off the things in front of them. "All those knives are pure silver, except for this dagger, which is made of bronze. There are a few machetes lying around too, extra sharp. The bullets are also silver, and shotgun shells? Full of salt."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. All full of rock salt. I haven't finished cataloguing all the ID's, there's so many of them. There are only a few handguns, while there are about 6 shotguns, and this." Abby lifted up a unique looking gun. It was black except for a few silver rings, and had an intricate engraving on it. The barrel was long and thin.

"That is a colt paterson revolver," stated Ziva. "It's a repeating firearm with a revolving cylinder, multiple chambers and a single barrel. Not very useful when in a sinch." Tony and McGee stared at her. "What?"

"You can list off the features of some obscure gun like it was the alphabet, but you don't know the difference between a sinch and a pinch?"

"Anyway," Abby practically yelled, determined to get their attention. She was so close to unveiling her idea, and hated to be stopped so near the finishing line. "I couldn't find it registered anywhere, and I couldn't find this particular design anywhere," she sighed, gesturing back to her computer. "There's no record of this ever being made. It only has one bullet left, and even the bullet itself has intricate carvings on it. It's pretty cool actually," she said with a grin. "Ok, then there's this," the forensic scientist continued, placing the gun down carefully. She picked up a jar from the back of the boot filled with a clear liquid, rosary beads floating within.

"What is that? Some kind of poison?" asked Tony.

"Nope. Water." Abby grinned at their confusion.

"What's so important about that Abby?"

"Well, I think it's actually holy water. See the rosary beads? And it would go together with everything else. The silver knives and bullets, all the different symbols, the salt in all the shells…" When she got a confused look from McGee, Abby elaborated. "Salt is meant to keep demons and spirits away. Why do you think I'm always throwing salt over my shoulder Tim?"

"Abby," Gibbs sighed, "Their insane. They're cult worshippers, we already knew that."

"No, Gibbs, I don't think so," said Abby confidently, holding up a finger. "I think they're actually more like protectors. Defenders against the supernatural. All these weapons and symbols are made to kill or ward of demons and spirits, I looked it up! Some of these are even meant to take down monsters. Like the silver bullets, for werewolves obviously. And these silver knives and daggers are meant to be good for all kinds of things. Ummm, shape-shifters for example!"

"Either way, whether they are worshipping or fighting these creatures, they are delusional," said Ziva. She looked worried at the Goth girl's enthusiasm. Abby rolled her eyes and stalked back to the computer.

"I'm not so sure. I started trying to follow their patterns. I haven't gotten far yet, they can really cover their tracks, but the few places I've managed to track them, there are always strange deaths or disappearances."

"Yeah Abs, that's cuz they like to kill people for giggles," said Tony.

"No, listen," said Abby, getting frustrated. She needed them to hear her out. "The weird occurrences always happen before they arrive. I've been using their stolen credit cards to check. And then the deaths stop. Every place they've been too, whatever strange thing that's going on stops, practically since their arrival. That dumb Agent Henricksen would know that if he'd done his research right."

"Abs - "

"Think about it! It makes sense! These guys go after the freaky stuff, and they stamp it out! They help people Gibbs, I'm telling you!"

"That stuff doesn't exist Abby," argued McGee.

"No? Then explain how in a small town in Wisconsin there's a sudden surge of drownings, one in the_ kitchen sink_, until the brothers show up there? Or how one town was plagued with a sickness that almost every child got, until the brothers check into a hotel, and by the time they leave, every single patient is better? Or," she continued, holding up a hand to quiet any protests, "explain how after they successfully evade law enforcement for almost two years, they get caught by a security alarm, brought into a prison where strange deaths are already occurring and don't escape, very easily by the way, until the deaths stop? Then, there's the sulphur at the crime scene. Something used to refer to hell, and to the four horsemen, to demons. Explain that to me, huh?" The team was quiet, unsure how to respond. "Exactly." Abby turned to face Gibbs personally. "You've got to admit, my theory makes sense."

"Except that stuff isn't real Abs. Ghosts, werewolves, demons? They don't legends. Myth."

"Says you," Abby tried not to sulk. "I've really done my research here Gibbs. And like I said, if that Henricksen guy hadn't done such a sloppy job - "

"I thought you were a scientist, Miss Scuito," a new voice said. "How can you believe such nonsense?" They all turned to see Fornell walking out of the elevator, and behind him, the one that had spoken -

"Sacks?" exclaimed Tony angrily. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's not Agent Sacks anymore Tony. The name's Victor Henricksen. The agent that did such a sloppy job with the Winchesters." Abby looked anywhere but at the FBI agents. "I'm here for the brothers."

**Plot Twist! Yeah. I can't wait till the next chapter, something pretty cool happens :) Hope you'll be there to read it, and thanks fro sticking with me so far.  
P.S I did a little one shot of the X Men Movies, I sort of went through a three day obsession and decided to do a mini fic about Logan, Rogue and Bobby, so look out for that.  
Shall update soon! Really ;)**


	8. Revelations

**Ta daaaa! Another chapter! Sorry I'm late as usual, but I'm on holidays in a week so I should be uploading a lot more :D Also, sorry if the Henricksen/Sax thing gets confusing. Let me know what you think!**

"What's going on here Fornell?" Gibbs looked to his old friend.

"Usual conference room?" suggested the senior FBI agent. They turned and walked back to the elevator, leaving their agents to glare silently at each other. The lift had only been moving for a few seconds before Gibbs flicked the switch, bringing it to a stop with a clunk.

"You're going to have explain this one to me," said Gibbs, looking at the other man suspiciously.

"You mean Agent Henricksen?"

"He was Agent Sax last time I heard. What happened?"

Tobias sighed. "Before he was put on the Winchester case, Agent Sax was working deep undercover. He was trying to get into a major drug operation going on in the back alleys of Washington. Almost got what we needed to. Except - "

"Someone screwed the pooch," finished Gibbs smugly.

Fornell grimaced and continued, "his cover was blown, big time. There's a call for his head, and they could very well catch up to Agent Sax."

"He's hiding from a group of dealers?"

"This is serious stuff Gibbs. They're on a new level. Efficient as an army and much more willing to kill." Fornell paused, rubbing the back of his head. "Like I said, they're after Agent Sax. Hence him becoming Agent Henricksen. Just until the drug ring is disbanded."

Gibbs shook his head and smiled slightly. "You sure know how to pick 'em Tobias." The smile dissappeared and he looked seriously at Fornell. "I don't want Sax near my case."

"Look, I get that you don't like Agent _Henricksen_, but he's been working on the Winchester case for a year and a half now - "

"Yeah, I can see he's spent the time well."

Fornell began to lose his patience. "These boys are slippery. They know how to do some real messed up crap and get away with it. They've been haunting our agency for too long, and I don't want you getting in the way of bringing them down."

"They're a part of my investigation Tobias. And your agent has a habit of making mistakes." The two men scowled at each other, the silence hanging heavy in the air.

It was Fornell that broke the tension. "I'll tell Henricksen you have them for 48 hours. But he'll be coming back in full force, so don't blame me when our boss calls yours." He reached for the switch and the elevator started back up with a purr.

* * *

Meanwhile the remaining agents were standing tensed in the evidence garage.

"So what happened, huh?" asked Tony. "You get sick of being called Agent Sucks? But it suits you so well!" he leered at the FBI agent, who glared back.

"I don't feel comfortable sharing sensitive information with a suspected killer. I don't understand how your boss does either." Ziva and Tim both rested a hand on Tony's arm, stopping him from lunging after Sax. Or Henricksen - whoever the hell he was. But it was Abby that spoke.

"Won't you get over the fact that you were wrong?" she asked angrily, taking a step towards him. "I mean, how are you even still working there? You do nothing but go after the good guys!"

Henricksen raised his eyebrows. "You don't think the Winchesters are demented killers?" Abby bristled and Ziva sighed.

"Abby -" the Goth turned on her friend.

"They're innocent Ziva!"

"Abby, I was watching Dean the whole time we brought him in. I recognise the signs of a killer." Ziva described all that she had seen about the older brother; the darting eyes, the automatic reaching for a gun, the non chalance in the face of the enemy. But Abby just smiled.

"Sounds just like you Ziva. And you're one of the best people I know."

Henricksen cut in. "Seems the whole team has killer characteristics." Before the they could turn on him, the elevator dinged open and the senior field agents headed back to the arguing group.

"They're keeping the brothers for now Henricksen," muttered Fornell. The NCIS team all glanced at each other and smiled. Once again their boss had won. Henricksen was not so amused.

"Are you kidding me? These guys - "

"Hey," Tobias silenced him with a wave of his hand. "We can't do anything about it without orders from higher up." Henricksen opened his mouth to argue and Tobias once again cut in, saying tiredly, "which we'll go back and get. The sooner we do that, the sooner you'll have those SOB's."

"I don't believe this," growled Henricksen. "You're just stepping down? This is _my_ case Fornell!"

"And you can do just as much as I can," he sighed, steering the younger man to the elevator. Tobias leaned towards Gibbs as he walked past and muttered "you owe me for this." Gibbs just smiled and turned back to his team.

"Alright, we've gotta move quick. Tony, go and give Vance a heads up, he'll be getting a complaint from the FBI pretty soon." Jethro did not look at all repentant that he'd gotten the agency in trouble once again. Tony nodded and walked away. Gibbs then turned seriously to his forensic scientist. "Abby, I want you working on a more logical theory."

"But - "

"I need you focused from now on." Abby stared daggers at her boss but stayed silent. "Alright, let's go see what the older brother has to say." Ziva and McGee followed Gibbs to the stairs, curious to see what Dean Winchester was like under interrogation, and what information they could glean from him.

* * *

Tony met the others back at observation with a curious look on his face, glancing at Winchester as he spoke. "Vance knows, and he's kinda pissed Gibbs." The ex marine just continued studying Dean through the glass unfazed. Despite Gibbs' orders, the agent assigned to watch him had gotten a cup of water for the young man, who was now bending over said water, muttering incoherently. Tony watched with what appeared to be disturbed fascination.

"I think he's speaking Latin," said Ziva after a moment with a tone of confusion and disapproval. This guy was obviously crazy. His strange behaviour was wierding the whole team out. Sam's fit, mixed with his brother's ranting, certainly proved they were messed up in the head. Dean sat up slightly straighter, giving the team a glimpse of the cup. Rosary beads were hanging over the side, half immersed in the water.

"How did he gets his hands on them?" asked Tony worriedly.

"I believe he came in with them," explained Ziva. "They obviously would not have set off the metal detector, and are small enough to go unnoticed when I was searching him for weapons."

McGee grinned mischievously. "You just didn't want to pat him down too much Ziva. He put you off." Ziva turned to argue but Tony interrupted.

"Boss, can I do the interrogation?" Gibbs looked at him. He wanted fast answers out of Winchester and didn't want to mess around with getting them. Then again, DiNozzo's methods, strange as they could be, were often quite effective.

"You've got 10 minutes DiNozzo." Tony nodded and walked out, heading into the interrogation room. Instead of sitting opposite Dean, he kept to the side of the room, just barely in Dean's eyesight. He, like his brother, was handcuffed, though this time to the table. Tony folded his arms.

"So Staff Sergeant Roger Mills, he was your next target huh? The latest victim in your long trail of mangled bodies and sick games?" Dean just smiled and went to fold his arms, forgetting that was impossible with his arm chained to the table. Scrunching his nose, Dean's free hand went to the cup of water, the rosary beads still floating in there. He didn't drink any. Just tightened his grip on the plastic. Tony walked further away until he was standing behind the Winchester at the back of the room. Dean could no longer see him at all.

"We saw him at the old boat shed. We saw you talking to him. Why would he run away, hmm?"

Dean sniffed, scrunching his nose further. "You smell something?" he asked. His voice was casual but his eyes were serious and alert, his toned body showing the signs of apprehension. McGee, watching from the other room, automatically sniffed. A pungent aroma lingered in the air. Smelt like rotten eggs…

Tony ignored the question, his eyes narrowing. "How did you burn the house? How did Mills escape, and why is he hiding from the authorities? Was he in on this from the start?"

Dean leaned back and twisted his head as far as he could, trying to get a glimpse of DiNozzo. "Well, you never know, do you? One moment a guy is a loving husband and dedicated patriot, and suddenly, hey christo, he's a real demon."

"What the - " Ziva stared through the glass.

"Come on Ziva, don't tell me you haven't heard the phrase hey christo before," laughed McGee.

"No, I just…" Ziva trailed off quietly. She must have imagined it. But she could have sworn Tony's eyes had changed for a moment. For a split-second, she thought they had turned black.

Dean smiled and looked forward again. He lifted the cup of water and looked to the big mirror, talking to the agents who he knew were on the other side. "This might freak you out a little bit." With that, he chucked the water over his shoulder, aimed at Tony who hadn't moved since he last spoke. The agent attempted to dodge but the throw was messy and water went everywhere - a good splash of it hitting Tony in the face.

With a sizzle the water immediately began to evaporate from Tony's face, bubbling like acid as he fell and screamed. All three other agents darted into the room. Ziva and Tim brought their guns up to point at Dean while Gibbs headed towards his senior agent, who was writhing on the ground, still screaming. Dean was standing up, stooped because of the table, muttering more latin like his life depended on it. Ziva and McGee were in turn yelling at Dean to get on his knees and shut the hell up, while Tony continued to scream and Gibbs shouted for him to calm down. It was complete chaos. Dean's murmurs sped up, getting louder and louder, until he yelled the last word, his voice rising over all the others in a great crescendo. Gibbs was knocked back with force as Tony's mouth opened wider yet, letting out one last scream as a horde of black smoke flew out and swirled around the ceiling before flying out the open door. Tony's screams dissipated to be replaced with gasps for air. The agents all stared, slack jawed, at the door left ajar. None of them could understand what they had just seen. Gibbs looked back to Tony, who was quietening down, patting his face and saying his name. Tony's eyes darted around wildly before resting on Dean, a look of relief and gratitude settling on his face. Ziva and McGee stood with their guns pointed down, to shocked to keep composure.

Gibbs stood back up, pulling DiNozzo carefully up with him. He looked at Dean, and after another moment of stunned silence, quietly asked, "What… The hell… Was that?"

Dean stood as straight as he could, breathing heavily with adrenaline. "That, my misinformed friend, was the real enemy." They all continued to stare uncomprehendingly at him. "That," he continued warily, "was a demon."

**I think that would be the bit where there's a black and white freeze frame and the ads come on ;) How are you liking the story so far? All criticism welcome!**


	9. Reactions

**Wow. Fairly certain this is my fastest update ever. And I'm not even on holidays yet! Truth is, I was so encouraged by all the reviews, I got kinda enthusiastic xD I'm pretty sure I have the best reviewers on FanFiction. You guys make me laugh! And you're all too kind, you're going to give me a big head ;) Silmarlfan1, yes, I do watch a lot of NCIS. You have no idea. It's scary. The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien, I loved your "phooft!" sound effect. I think I'm going to use that at the end of my chapters from now on, if that's ok with you? *puppy dog eyes* And Oyaji Murakami, your comment really made me laugh xD thankyou.**

**Thankyou so much to everyone who's following this :) I'm having so much fun writing it. Ok, enough blabbering, here you go!**

Dean stood, slightly hunched over, carefully watching the NCIS team as he revealed the truth to them.

"That was a demon."

His eyes darted from one agent's face to another, gauging their reactions. He had to figure out who was going to be the hardest to convince, and who was going to make the most trouble. He'd done this dance before. Though usually he had Sam and those innocent 'believe anything I say' eyes. Dean wanted to see Sam and was pretty close to demanding it, but he forced himself to be patient. Let it sink in first.

McGee's eyes had widened into large saucers and were darting between Dean and Gibbs, as if waiting for his boss to prove otherwise. Agent David had walked out the door and was looking up the hall, for the remains of any black smoke probably, and occasionally glancing back at Dean, scrutinising his face before going back to staring up the hall. Tony was still breathing heavily from the shock, and most likely the pain, of being possessed. Dean figured he would be the easiest to convince, what with a demon having already worn him like a glove. It was never a good experience. Gibbs was resting a hand protectively on Tony's still shaking shoulder. Dean was finding it difficult to pick anything up from the leader. Gibbs stared at Dean, his eyes narrowed, his mouth thin. He certainly seemed shocked. But not necessarily believing. Damn this guy was good at his poker face.

"Boss?" McGee asked uncertainly after another moment of silence. Ziva was no longer visible in the door way. Gibbs looked to his younger agent as if only just remembering he was there, his eyes widening slightly.

"Gibbs - " Tony started, but he was cut off.

"Both of you, with me," Gibbs said quietly, pushing Tony along in front of him and heading for the door. McGee followed, giving Dean another confused glance as he went.

"Let me talk to Sam!" Dean yelled but the door was shut halfway through his plea. "Dammit," he muttered, kicking the chair over in frustration.

He spent the next five minutes trying to reach it so he could sit down.

* * *

Ziva ran back from the end of the hallway to catch up with the others as they headed back into observation. She could see no evidence of the strange black smoke that had flown out of Tony's mouth only moments before.

Strange black smoke… That had flown out of Tony's mouth…

Ziva was pretty sure not even America could have a phrase for this kind of situation.

She shut the door of observation closed behind her. Tony was sitting down massaging his head, while McGee was pulling up the tape of Dean's interview under Gibbs' watchful eyes. Well mostly watchful. They kept flicking back to Tony, who didn't seem to notice. Ziva knew Gibbs was worried about his longest running agent, but was having trouble finding the time to worry with all the questions and pure confusion swirling around his head. Ziva knew because she was feeling exactly the same way.

"Where's Dean? Did you find him?" Ziva turned to see Sam in the other room questioning the agent still with him. He looked agitated. Ziva remembered the strange freak out he had earlier. What the hell was going on? And what did all of this have to do with a navy staff sergeant?

"Got it," announced McGee, pressing play from the start of Tony's interrogation of Dean. Tony was watching, his eyes wide and confused. As on-screen-Tony talked, keeping a wide berth of on-screen-Dean, real life DiNozzo spoke up.

"It was the weirdest thing." His voice was quiet and serious - an unusual combination for Tony and only cause for more worry. "It's like I was there, but I couldn't do anything. I wasn't in control. I was just watching it happen." TV-Dean had just thrown the water into TV-Tony's face. The team watched silently as the black smoke once again billowed out and disappeared from the room. McGee paused and rewinded. Ziva watched TV-Dean's lips moving at incredible speed, chanting as Tony writhed on the ground…

"What was he doing to you Tony?" Ziva asked, not quite realising she'd spoken aloud. Tony shook his head.

"I think… I think he saved me Ziva."

Gibbs looked over at him disbelievingly. "Whatever he was doing Tony, it didn't seem to be a walk in the park for you. Ducky'll be having a look at you soon as we're done here."

Tony shook his head again. "No boss, listen. When I was.. While Dean was being questioned… It wasn't me. There was something… Someone else there. I could feel them." McGee was leaning forward on his chair, listening intently to the description. "And they felt wrong, Gibbs. Whatever was playing around in there," he tapped his head for emphasis, "it was evil."

Ziva looked to Gibbs. "Do you think it could have been some kind of reaction? Perhaps Dean Winchester did something to the water."

"Holy water."

Everyone looked back at DiNozzo. "What?"

"I think it was holy water. Like what Abby was talking about." Abby. She was going to have a mead - a field day over this.

"Why do you think that DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. He looked worried. But… curious too. Maybe he was starting to warm to their forensic scientist's theory, just as Tony apparently was. Ziva wasn't convinced quite yet. She was having trouble figuring out what to believe. But she hadn't ruled out 'weird chemical reaction' just yet. Which meant she wasn't jumping to the 'demon' theory.

"It - the thing, or whatever, in my head - it was scared. As soon as it saw the water, it was freaking out."

"So why did… it… Go in there?"

"I dunno. This is going to sound crazy, but - "

"Just this bit?" muttered Tim.

"I think it was following orders. There was this sense of duty. Like it was scared, but it was more scared of going against instructions. Kind of like working for you boss," Tony managed a weak smile. Gibbs didn't even go for the head slap. He looked back at the video, replaying the smoke escaping over and over. There was silence, only to be broken a few minutes later. The Winchesters, it seemed, were losing patience.

"Hey!" called out Dean.

"Where's my brother?" yelled Sam at the same time. They were both looking right at the glass, Sam ignoring the silent agent standing by the door.

"Let me see Sam!" Dean demanded a moment later.

"Wow, those guys sure are devoted," murmured Tony.

Finally, Gibbs stood up straight and took a deep breath. He was composing himself. Ziva felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over her. Gibbs was getting it together. He could deal with anything. So long as Leroy Jethro Gibbs was working the case, they'd figure it out. Ziva was surprised at herself - a few years ago she would never have become so reliant on one person. This worried her a little. Because, you know, the freaky and possible-but-not-yet-proven supernatural stuff going on here wasn't enough to feel uneasy about.

"Ziva, go with DiNozzo to see Ducky, make sure his head isn't any more damaged then before." Tony rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to argue, or perhaps return some witty comeback, but Ziva just grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him out of the room. "McGee…" Gibbs paused as if the next bit was going to be hard to say. "Call Abby. Get her up here." McGee turned slightly more pale at the idea - her enthusiasm truly might get the best of them this time - but he nodded and pulled out his phone. Gibbs followed Ziva and Tony out of the room. "I'm going to talk to Sam."

Tony and Ziva were headed towards the elevator when Tony pulled away and ducked into Interrogation Room Two. Looking to Dean, he gave a minute nod. "Thanks." Tony wasn't totally sure what he was thanking Dean for, but it seemed appropriate. He caught up to Ziva and followed her to the end of the hall, hearing a faint and only slightly sarcastic "anytime bro!" after him.

* * *

Abby was copying down a symbol from the journal she had found in the car when McGee called. It was supposed to ward off Demons, stop them from possessing you. And it would make a great tattoo.

"Hey Tim!" Abby went from bright and bubbly to grumpy in the space of a second. "What do you want? I don't have a so called _logical_ theory for you."

"No, Abby, look… Can you get up here? To interrogation?" He sounded nervous. Abby's interest was immediately piqued.

"Sure!"

* * *

Sam banged his head on the table, slightly harder then intended. He sat there, his forehead against the cool surface, and stewed. He hadn't heard anything for hours. He didn't know if they'd gotten to Dean in time or if they were sending his big brother to the morgue right now. And no one would tell him a damn thing.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there stood the silver haired ex marine/really annoying federal agent Gibbs.

"So?" Sam instantaneously jumped up and yet again knocked over that damned chair. His wrist was starting to chafe from the handcuffs. "Did you find him? Is Dean ok?"

"He's in custody."

Sam sighed in relief. Thank god. That vision had barely left his head since he'd had it. The image of Dean's head twisting… Sam couldn't quite suppress the shudder. That was when he really took note of Gibbs' appearance. The older man looked drawn and wary. He was even more tense then before and his eyes had a familiar haunted look to them. Sam smiled grimly, feeling a slight ebb of pity for him.

"You saw something didn't you? Something… less then normal?" Gibbs slowly walked forwards and sat down opposite Sam, waving the other agent out of the room. He stayed silent until the door was closed.

"I don't know what I saw," admitted Gibbs. His tone had changed. It wasn't as harsh or mistrusting as before. It was more curious. "We're looking into it now. Abby has a theory… She thinks you and your brother are innocent. Thinks you go around the country saving kids from the things in their closets." He chuckled humourlessly.

"Abby's the one with the...?" Sam pointed to his neck. "She's a smart girl." Gibbs studied him for a minute before Sam decided to try pushing his luck. "Look, let me talk to my brother. We'll explain everything, give you a few phone numbers you can ring that'll help prove the story… Just please, let me see him."

"He's been asking for you too, you know." Gibbs watched Sam attempt to hide the small smile that played across his lips. He took another moment to study the younger Winchester, the earlier events replaying in his head. "You really believe in all that supernatural crap?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't want to, but yeah. Kind of hard not to after a few years in the family business." Gibbs nodded and stood up. "So, what's gunna happen now?" asked Sam.

Gibbs opened the door and walked out. "I'll get your brother," was the reply as the door closed behind him.

_Finally._

**PHOOFT.**

**Yup, I like the 'phooft'. Was fun to say. I hope you liked :) It was difficult writing this chapter cuz even though I've watched NCIS for many years, and have seen every single episode that's come out, it's still difficult trying to imagine how they would react to such a... strange turn of events. Well anyway, hope it worked for you. Not a lot of action, I know, but just you wait ;) I'm getting excited, I pretty much know where I'm going with this story and I think I'm almost-not-quite-kinda there. I shall await your reviews eagerly ^_^**


	10. Moving Forward

**Well, I gotta tell you. This was a painful one. I ended up rewriting it like 3 times, and I'm still not happy with it. But I was determined to get it done, so here you go! I hope it's alright at least :)  
**

**Thankyou so so so much to everyone who's reviewing, following, favouriting or even just reading this story! You guys are great, and I hope this story is living up to your expectations. If not, I always welcome advice on how to improve! Just let me know :D**

**This chapter is dedicated to The Lilac Elf of Lothlorean for letting me use her phooft idea ;) And of course, as always, Tosca's Prayer.**

Dean looked up from where he leaned on the desk, attempts at getting the chair forgotten, as Gibbs walked back in. Not a word passed between them as Jethro walked around to the corner of the table and unlocked the handcuffs keeping Dean in a hunchback position. The young man rubbed his wrists subconsciously as he looked questioningly to Gibbs.

"This mean you believe me old man?" Gibbs gave a sideways glance at him. "Uh… Sir?"

"This means you're seeing your brother, nothing more." Dean's expression lit up, though he quickly tried to hide it with nonchalance.

"About time," he said enthusiastically. "I swear, it's like you have a rule against keeping suspects in the same room."

"I do actually," replied Gibbs as he led Dean into the hallway. "Rule one."

"Right…" Conversation was cut short when Gibbs opened the door to where Sam was sitting, drumming his fingers against the desk.

Dean smirked. "Hey kid. I see they're keeping you entertained."

Sam grinned back, his features visibly relaxing. "Dean. Thank god. I saw…" he glanced at Gibbs, standing by the doorway. "You know. Last time I saw you, you weren't… Looking too good."

"Yeah, I know." Dean didn't want to imagine what Sam had seen in his vision, but he had a vague idea. He headed over to Sam and spotted the chain linking his brother to the chair. "You gunna get rid of his too or what?" He asked, looking back at the silent agent.

Gibbs walked slowly into the room and over to Sam's handcuffs, producing a key. "I still don't trust you," he stated matter of factly. "Either of you."

"Aw, but Agent Gibbs, we have such innocent faces!" exclaimed Dean as Gibbs unlocked Sam's handcuffs. Gaining an all too well known eye roll from Sam was worth every word.

"Right. Of course you do," replied Gibbs. He left, closing the door behind him and locking it before going into observation. Abby was already there, looking from Gibbs to McGee.

"So? What did you want to talk to me about?" After a moment's silence she pointed at Gibbs, her finger right in his face. "You're warming up to my theory aren't you? You so are!" Her voice was rising with excitement.

"Show her the interrogation McGee," commanded Gibbs without looking away from Abby's inquisitive glare. Abby immediately turned and walked over to the computer screen as McGee sighed and typed on the keyboard. Soon enough the video was playing again, first of Dean leaning over the water, then Tony interrogating him, then Dean chucking the water and…

"Oh my god!" Abby's hands went up to her mouth in shock. It still freaked Gibbs out himself. "Is Tony ok? Where's Tony?" Abby looked frantically around, her hysteria increasing when she noticed for the first time he wasn't there, nor was Ziva.

"It's ok - Hey! Abby!" Gibbs put his hands on her shaking shoulders, breaking through her panic. "He's alright. Ducky's checking him out downstairs now. He's alright Abby. Ziva's with him." Abby slowly calmed down, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Gibbs kept his hands on her shoulders, making sure she had settled. Suddenly her eyes snapped open again.

"You realise what this means, Gibbs? I was right! My theory was right!" She turned to face the brothers, who were chatting quietly, Dean's back to the mirror. "That means it's all real. All of that supernatural stuff…"

McGee looked at her questioningly. "I thought you always believed in it anyway."

Abby only spared him a glance before going back to studying the brothers. "It's one thing to believe, Tim, it's a whole new level when it's actually proved to you."

"Abby, we don't know for sure that's what happened yet," stressed Gibbs. "We just want your opinion. You're _professional, scientific, informed_ opinion."

Abby nodded. She knew this was her chance to prove things in the dark exist, and that these boys were innocent. She would do it right. Her face set, Abby walked out and right into the now empty interrogation room. Gibbs and McGee watched her quietly. The scientist slipped on some latex gloves from her pocket and ran a finger along the edge of the mirror, the table, the turned over chair, the floor. This was all done in silence. Finally she stood up and nodded, showing her finger through the glass.

"Sulphur!" Just like at the other crime scenes.

"What does that mean Abs?" McGee spoke through the microphone that projected into the room.

"Well, if we're going with the fact that I'm right about all this, which I _am_, then it means it was a Demon." Abby's eyes widened, her professional mask slipping for a moment. "A demon possessed Tony! I have _got_ to ask him what that was like!"

"Focus, Abby," muttered Gibbs, taking the microphone from McGee.

"Right, sorry." Abby then went to the abandoned plastic cup now lying on the floor. After examining it she picked up the rosary beads. "These are just like the ones in the jar of holy water in their trunk Gibbs!"

"Is there any water left in the cup?"

"There are dregs," she replied after a moment of looking.

"Ok, bring it in." Abby walked back to observation with the rosary beads and plastic cup. "I want you to test the water, see if it isn't full of some acidic chemical, or anything that could have done that to Tony."

Abby's face fell. "Gibbs - "

He silenced her with a hand. "If it's just normal water, with absolutely nothing special about it, then it'll prove your theory. Right Abs?"

Her face once again shone with excitement. "Right! I'll call you with the results." She headed for the door, turning back to face them as she left. "And Gibbs, when I'm right, you owe me so many Caf-Pows!"

_If you're right, I'll buy you a lifetime's supply_, he thought. Turning back to watch the brothers, he gestured to Tim. "Turn up the volume McGee." Their voices became loud and clear as they muttered to one another.

It was a strange conversation.

"So they don't know about your..?" Dean asked his brother quietly.

Sam laughed nervously. "About how I knew where you'd be, because we planned it earlier?" He nodded his head in the direction of the mirror slightly and said pointedly, "Yeah dude, they know."

"Right," said Dean, getting the message. "Good call."

"So you're ok?" asked Sam. He didn't know how close a call it had been and wanted to know if there were any new injuries to worry about.

"Yeah man, those NCIS agents are pretty efficient." Dean grinned reassuringly, before turning serious. "So what do we do now college boy?"

Sam sighed. "I think that depends on what Agent Gibbs decides. Hopefully we'll be able to get the message across to them - so wait what happened anyway?"

"You don't know?"

"All I know is they saw something on our level of expertise. Did it have to do with Yellow Eyes?"

"Dunno, but it was a demon, so it's possible. Used the guy interrogating me as a meat suit. They didn't take my rosary beads off me though, so I managed to get rid of the guy with a cup of water and Bobby's old chant." Dean seemed pretty proud of himself.

"Wow, you finally remembered it huh?"

"Damn right I did. Not looking so smart now, are we Sammy?"

"So where are the beads now? We might need them in case the demon tries again."

Dean's face fell. "Oh. Yeah, I, uh, kinda dropped them. Back in the other room." Sam sighed and rubbed his temples. But Dean could tell the difference between an exasperated Dean-is-an-idiot gesture and a my-head's-killing-me gesture. "You alright Sammy?"

"Yeah, I just… My head's a bit sore. From, you know. Today's events."

Dean again looked back at the mirror, paranoid about who was watching on the other side. "Yeah, I get ya." Sam knew Dean was worried about the same thing he was. It was one thing to see your friend be ridden by a demon, and then to have to accept the whole supernatural gig, but they didn't want to overcomplicate things by bringing to light Sam's abilities. It often gave the wrong impression. Can't imagine why. There was a moment of silence where Dean studied Sam worriedly before calling to the agents he knew were on the other side of the glass. "You guys got anything for a headache?"

Soon enough Gibbs was walking back in, McGee by his side. Two pills were placed on the table.

"Tylenol," Gibbs muttered simply. Sam nodded his thanks and took the tablets.

"What, no water?" Dean couldn't hold back on the smartass comments.

"I'd rather not get another one of my agents writhing around on the floor," replied Gibbs.

"Hey, I saved that poor bastard's life." Of course Sam had already swallowed the painkillers, so the argument was basically invalid. "How's he doing by the way?"

"We're getting him looked at now," said Gibbs vaguely. To his slight surprise, this caused the brothers to groan in unison.

"No, man, you don't get the ambos involved!" complained Dean. "You really expect to explain that one to them?"

"I never said he was at the hospital," muttered Gibbs impatiently. "I know when to be discrete." McGee quickly looked away, trying not to laugh. Discrete was never a word he'd used when describing his boss.

"So what's going to happen now?" asked Sam, putting aside any questions he had on 'being discrete'.

Gibbs sat down across from them, folding his hands together. "We're going to be doing a bit of research, see what we're dealing with."

"It's just like a classic hunt Sammy," muttered Dean, shaking his head. "I can't believe you guys need more proof. You saw black smoke fly out of your agent's mouth! What more proof do you need?"

"I just want to make sure we have all the facts first."

Dean groaned, but Sam nodded and nudged his brother. "Like you said Dean, it's just like a hunt. We'd want to know if it was a skinwalker instead of a werewolf, right?"

Gibbs stared, but McGee couldn't help himself. "What's a skinwalker?"

"The point is," Gibbs said loudly, "we're going to have to verify a few things before I know you're on our side. And before I believe there are _things_ on the other side. Like skinwalkers, werewolves and shapeshifters. You'll have to excuse me if I need a bit more proof." His eyes squinted in a sarcastic smile.

"I have it right here Gibbs!" everyone turned to see Abby rush into the room, her platform shoes scuffing the carpet and her shining black pigtails bouncing excitedly. "It's water! Simple, plain, unpolluted water." Abby turned to the Winchesters. "Hey Sam!"

Sam waved, keeping one hand by his head to rest on, as Dean's eyes scanned over the Goth in the miniskirt. "And this is?" he asked eagerly.

"Abby. Our forensic scientist." said Gibbs, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

"Wow. You're a scientist?" Dean seemed impressed.

Abby grinned. "The best! And I've just proved that not only are you guys innocent, but that you're just as sane as me or him!" she pointed to McGee overenthusiastically. She turned back to Gibbs. "You owe me a Caf-Pow! No, more like 30 Caf-Pows!" Dean was busy wondering what the hell a Caf-Pow was as Gibbs asked,

"So you tested it Abby?"

"Yep, and it's just plain water. Well, as plain as holy water can be."

Dean grinned. "This chick's smart!"

"That's because this _chick_ is the top scientist in her field," said Abby pointedly, leaving Dean looking sheepish.

Gibbs sighed and rubbed his face with a hand, his eyes closed. Dean opened his mouth but Sam punched him lightly. _Wait_, he mouthed.

McGee was the first to break the silence. "Does that mean… It really was a demon?"

"Bingo!" called Dean happily. Gibbs looked up and studied the brothers.

"And you fight these things for a living?"

"Well I wouldn't really call it a living, but yeah."

"And that particular… Thing was a demon?"

"One of many."

Gibbs was suddenly looking exhausted. But he also looked resigned. Sam could see the man was finally accepting reality.

"So what the hell was it doing with my agent?"

Sam interrupted his brother's answer. "That might be easier to explain with your other agents here. It'll be simpler if we only say it once. We're sort of on a schedule." By schedule Sam of course meant running out of time to find the yellow eyed demon that killed both their parents, Sam's love and countless others. But, you know. Details.

"Fine." Gibbs stood up. "Let's go see how Tony's doing."

* * *

Said Agent Anthony DiNozzo was sitting rigidly on one of the cold metal tables in autopsy. His hands gripped the sides, ignoring the cold of the slab. Memories from being possessed were flashing on and off in his mind as Ducky regaled him and Ziva about a man he once met that had coughed up bile looking like black sludge. Ziva wasn't paying much attention to the story either. She was continuously glancing at Tony and wondering if she should ask him if he was ok for the 7th time.

"Ok, my dear boy, here are the x-rays," announced their medical examiner. They had explained the story to Ducky, who was taking the news pretty well. It must not have been so shocking when you weren't actually there to see it. It was probably less fantastic in Ducky's mind. Tony and Ziva finally zoned in, watching as Ducky put up the sheets on the glowing board to display Tony's lungs. "Now, don't worry about all of that scarring Anthony. That is simply remnants of your bout with Y-Pestis. This, on the other hand…" he gestured to what appeared to be light speckling spread out in the lungs. "I'm not particularly sure what that is… How unusual…"

"That'd be sulphur, Ducky!" Abby led the way into the room, followed by Gibbs, Dean, Sam and McGee bringing up the rear. Ziva and Tony tensed at seeing the brothers without handcuffs. Ducky just seemed surprised.

"What's all this, Jethro?"

"See that, Ducky? That stuff in Tony's lungs?" Abby linked her arm in Ducky's and pointed to the x-rays.

"Of course, dear."

"That's the remains of a demon possessing Tony!" she said happily.

**PHOOFT.**

**I know, not my best work. Sorry. But I have a good feeling about the next chapter - oh my god! Guys, I think we're almost at the end! I think a few more chapters will probably do it. I'm both excited and sad.**

**Oh! By the way, that last chapter? First thing I've ever proof read. Because I absolutely hate proof reading. Just a little fun fact for you :) Ok, plenty of action coming up I think! See you soon!**


	11. Personal History

**Wanna know a secret? You know how Gibbs gave Sam Tylenol earlier? I have no idea what Tylenol is. See, I live in Australia and we don't have that here, we use Panadol as a common brand of painkillers. I had no idea if America even sells Panadol, I doubt it, but I had seen 'Tylenol' used in a lot of fics, so I decided to just sort of risk it. Probably could have looked it up, but anyways...**

**By the way, can I just say, WOW. I have gotten such amazing reviews from you guys. I'm seriously amazed at how nice you all are, your comments brighten up my day! Thankyou so much!**

**Alrighty, next chapter. I'm feeling pretty good about this one, but as always I welcome your criticism :) Enjoy!**

Sam stood out of the way of the NCIS team along with his brother. They stayed quiet and still as Abby greeted the medical examiner - did she just call him Ducky? Sam could tell Dean was itching to get a move on and to be honest, so was he. Now that it was established they were the good guys, the two hunters wanted to jump right back into finding Yellow-Eyes before he became once more untraceable. But patience was, unfortunately, a must. This small group of federal workers had just been exposed to the world of demons. It was best not to rush them while the news sank in.

What Sam couldn't understand was why they had to get this Doctor involved. The more people that knew, the worse it was, and the longer it would take to have everyone convinced. They only had so much time left, Sam could feel it. His hand raised slightly to massage his aching temples, but he stopped halfway and dropped the hand. Dean was watching him out of the corner of his eye, and the younger brother didn't think he was feeling up to any concerned big brother interrogations. So he kept his face neutral and looked on as Abby revealed to the older man that a demon had possessed Tony.

As it turned out, Dean wasn't the only one watching him. Ziva was subtly studying both brothers through furtive glances and narrowed eyes. No one had yet explained to her why the men had suddenly been released and allowed to roam free, and Sam could see she wasn't the type to trust easily. He got the feeling that even after she was convinced that there are things lurking in the dark, she still wouldn't totally trust them.

A silence had begun to linger in the air after Abby's revelation, and the ME was openly staring at Tony. An uncertain smile played at the agent's lips, the obvious discomfort in being studied so showing as his body remained tense on the cool metal slab.

It was Dean that was the first to speak, and his ice breaker caused Sam to openly groan. "Hate to butt in here, but I gotta ask… How did you get a nickname like Ducky?" Dean had on his charming smile, his tone of voice light hearted. Sam could see he was actually curious. Admittedly Sam was too, but he had been hoping for a more appropriate time to ask. But this was the kind of thing to expect from Dean.

What Sam didn't expect was Gibbs walking over and smacking Dean upside the head. "You mind keeping a lid on it for a few minutes," the boss ordered exasperatedly. Sam couldn't quite hide his smirk as Dean just looked, wide eyed, at the older man. His mouth opened, then closed as he looked to Sam for defence. Upon seeing his younger brother do nothing but snicker, Dean backed down and quietly sulked. Sam was amazed. No one had been able to shut Dean up like that since… Well, since John.

Gibbs turned back to the main group, specifically Ducky, who hadn't had a chance to answer Dean's badly timed question. "Sorry about that Duck."

"It's quite alright, Jethro," Ducky answered quietly. He walked up to Tony and felt his forehead. "How are you feeling now Tony?"

Tony looked confused. "Ummm… I'm alrighty, Ducky, but uh…"

It was Ducky's turn to look confused. "What is it?"

Tony laughed uncertainly. "Aren't you taking this whole demon possession thing kind of well?"

"Are we sure it was a - a demon?" interrupted Ziva irritably.

"Definitely," Abby said, her face the most serious Sam had seen it. "I tested the water. Plain old holy water." Ziva grimaced and nodded. It seemed she'd only been waiting for confirmation. Sam had seen that before - she could see the truth was right in front of her, but refused to believe it until there was no other explanation. The reaction wasn't uncommon.

Meanwhile, Ducky's face had transformed into one of guilt. "Well, I suppose I appear to be accepting this a bit too easily, don't I…" he murmured. "The thing is, I'm sorry to say, this isn't my first brush with the supernatural."

"What?" cried out Abby indignantly. "You mean you've been holding back on me Ducky? Whenever I come forward with a new theory about something otherworldy, and the others just brush it off, you could have backed me up?"

"You're kidding me, right Ducky?" said Tony, more uncertain then ever.

Abby's train of thought changed suddenly. "Ducky! You have got to tell me what you've seen!" She was now excited and enthusiastic. "That autopsy you told me about, where the body disappeared, was that - "

"You want to explain this one to me, Doctor Mallard?" asked Gibbs quietly. He seemed kind of pissed to Sam.

Ducky avoided everyone's eyes and paced to the other side of the room, talking as he walked. "Well, as you all know, I've done quite a bit of travelling in my years. The expertise I am so fortunate to have in my field takes me to many places, some of which are very remote." Ducky turned to face his friends, Sam and Dean hovering uncertainly in the background. "It is hard to live such a varied life as mine without occasionally seeing something that can not quite be explained."

"Like what, Ducky?" asked McGee curiously, caught up in the revelation.

The doctor sighed as his eyes got a far away look in them. "Well, I was at one point working in a very small town situated on the edge of a forest. Many people had gone missing there, and when a body was finally found, they felt they needed a more experienced opinion." The silence of the room was a hint for him to continue. "The body - a young woman, poor thing - had been shredded and torn. It appeared she had been slowly drained of blood, as if hanging for days before dying. It was a terrible tragedy." Ducky shook his head sadly. "Search parties had been sent into dense woodlands, but found no other bodies. However, a small handful of people claimed to have seen someone, or at least the shadow of someone. They said it moved so quickly it was like a blur in the corner of their eye." Ziva noticed Sam and Dean exchange meaningful looks, but did not interrupt. "About a week later a hunter was attracted to one of his bear traps by what he described as an inhuman scream. The thing he had caught was certainly not human. It was incredibly tall and thin, with long sharp teeth and what the hunter described to be glowing eyes. I believe this description because I studied it after it was killed."

"Hold on," Sam spoke up. "You're telling me an average hunter caught a _Wendigo_ with an average bear trap, and then _killed_ it? Really?" Most of the team looked confused but Ducky smiled.

"The trap was made of pure iron, and the hunter stabbed it's heart with a silver stake soon after. I believe such a method is very effective on your wendeegos." His slight accent dragged out the word making Sam think he was perhaps British or Scottish.

"That wasn't a turkey hunter you met, Duck-man," said Dean confidently. "I think you stumbled across an actual hunter. Like, our kind of hunting."

Ducky chuckled. "Well I must say, my dear man, he certainly had me fooled. The beard and trucker hat seemed authentic enough, and the old boy was certainly gruff enough to - "

Sam and Dean looked at each other, grinning. "Bobby!" they exclaimed as one. "That geezer never told me you could use bear traps," muttered Dean.

"I'm impressed Ducky," commented Tony. "To think you of all people could actually hold off on a story that impressive…"

Ducky chuckled. "I still have a few tales up my sleeve."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me," pouted Abby.

"Well I would have hated for you to get to encouraged, my dear," admitted Ducky. "I didn't want you running off to try and find something for yourself. I would hate for you to end up lying on one of these tables." He gestured to the metal slabs behind him.

"Awww, thanks Ducky!" said Abby, hugging the older man. Sam admired the way she so easily forgave and forgot. He squinted through flaming pain as his head began to drum loudly. Those painkillers were useless.

Gibbs shook his head and rubbed his eyes. This was too much. He turned to look at the brothers who were leaning against the office desk in the corner of the room. Dean was watching the team's conversation expectantly as Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. The younger brother wasn't looking so good.

"Is Tony going to be ok, Duck?" asked Gibbs as he continued to watch the brothers. Dean just looked back, waiting to see what would happen next.

"It's hard to say," came the voice of his long time friend. "While I have of course learnt of demon possessions, I've never witnessed one for myself. I do not know the side effects involved in such a matter."

Sam looked up with tired eyes to answer for the doctor. "He should be fine. As long as the host body isn't damaged while being possessed - "

"Or thrown out of a warehouse window," muttered Dean quietly, looking guilty.

"Then there shouldn't be any lasting effects." Sam smiled at Tony. "You got off lucky, man. Trust me."

"I can believe that," replied DiNozzo. "Just getting glimpses of what that monster was thinking…" he shuddered. Gibbs made a note to suggest time off for his agent later. Despite Winchester's reassurances, he was justifiably worried about Tony. It would have to wait though.

"What's happened with our staff sergeant?" Gibbs asked Dean.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be so hopeful for that guy," replied Dean. His face was dark and angry. "He got caught by the big cheese. I doubt you'll be getting him back."

"Damn," murmured Gibbs. But who was the 'big cheese'? Was he the Yellow Eyes thing they had mentioned earlier? "Ok, we'll head up to the squadroom and discuss a plan of action." Gibbs began walking, his team automatically following. "We're going to have to figure out our next move." Sam and Dean followed after the others as the autopsy doors opened with a slight hiss. Gibbs turned to see Ducky still standing by the lit up x-ray wall. "Not coming, Duck?"

Ducky smiled sheepishly. "No, I don't think so Jethro. I've had my fill of the weird and dangerous for one day."

"Alright," Gibbs smirked. He could completely understand Donald Mallard's view. He only wished he had that same luxury.

"Dude, you ok?" asked Dean quietly to Sam, who simply nodded in response and continued to look pale.

"Good luck, Jethro!" Ducky called as the elevator doors opened.

* * *

A rough circle was formed in the open walled squad room. It had been a long day and the sky was dark outside, so most employees had gone home for the night. A cleaner whistled tunelessly as he vacuumed the carpet on the far side of the floor. Abby offered the brothers chairs, which Sam gratefully accepted and Dean politely ignored. The older brother stood just behind and to the left of the younger one, who was leaning forward in his chair. Gibbs observed this almost soldier like behaviour with interest. It was like he'd been trained.

"How did you get sucked into all of this?" asked Gibbs. He wanted to know their history a bit more before mapping out a plan with them. Abby's eyes lightened up, obviously relieved she was going to get to hear the story.

Dean and Sam, however, looked less enthusiastic. "I don't think that's really relevant," sidestepped Dean.

"If we're going to be working together, I think it is. I like to know who I'm trusting my life with."

"Woah, woah, hold up there man." Dean looked downright stubborn now. "It's best if we work alone. I mean, no offence, but you wouldn't let ordinary civilians run into a nest of terrorists or whatever with nothing but a half loaded gun, would you? I get that you guys have been doing your job for a long time and all, but our job is completely different."

"I dunno," argued McGee lightly. "We both investigate, we both do the research, we both take down the bad guys, right?"

"Yeah, but the bad guys you take down won't rip your head off within seconds for a bit of a laugh," countered Dean.

"And the guys you go after can be stopped with the threat of an average bullet," added Sam quietly. He sounded almost envious.

"So why do you do it?" asked Ziva.

"It's not like we chose this path," said Dean. He was getting frustrated. "I mean, this one wanted to go to college for god's sake," he nodded to Sam, talking as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Dude, I _did_ go to college," sighed Sam. He continued to rub his eyes as he muttered, almost to himself, "I finally got out…"

"What made you come back to the life, then?" asked Tony. Sam's hands stopped moving and they slowly lowered to his lap, his eyes staying glued to the floor.

"Sam, you don't have to - " started Dean warningly, glaring at the agents.

"We need their help Dean, to escape if nothing else," argued the tall man. Dean remained quiet but looked extremely unhappy. "A demon - _the_ demon, the one we've been hunting, the one that took your navy guy. It killed our mom when we were little. I was only six months old. Dad became a hunter, a person who fights monsters, ghosts and all that, looking for revenge. So, naturally, we were brought up the same way." The last sentence sounded slightly resentful, and Dean's glare was turned on Sam momentarily before going back to the NCIS team. "Eventually I left for college, while Dean and Dad continued hunting." The squad room was still, no one but Sam speaking, even Gibbs engrossed in the story. "That went on for almost two years until - " Sam cut off and went back to rubbing his eyes painfully.

Gibbs looked to Dean to continue, as did the others. Dean sighed and said in an annoyed voice, "Until dad went missing and the demon - " Dean looked back to his brother, both his expression and voice immediately softening. "The Yellow Eyed son of a bitch killed Sam's girlfriend." Abby's hands went to her mouth amid the sudden silence. Suddenly she was leaning down and hugging Sam tightly. Dean raised his eye brows but Sam, after a moment of surprised tension, smiled softly and hugged her back.

"So you teamed up again and went back to searching for the demon," finished Ziva.

"That's it."

"Did you at least find your dad?" asked McGee.

The brothers' expressions once again turned pained. It was Sam that answered. "Well, yeah, we found him. But so did Yellow-Eyes, so now John's gone too."

Wow. Gibbs rubbed the back of his head and looked away. Like him, they had lost their family to a monster. But he had eventually gotten his revenge. These brothers still had no such closure. Gibbs could feel his respect for the hunters growing, and he began to feel sure that these were two men he could trust. It was about time someone did.

"Look, you don't need to get involved in this," emphasised Dean. "I get that he hurt your marine, but it's best if you leave this stuff to us. It's safer that way. If you could just help us get out of here, maybe throw Henricksen off our trail for a while, that'll be enough. Seriously."

The younger agents looked to Gibbs, as did Abby who was still hugging Sam. They would follow his lead on this, though Abby at least looked adamant in her defiance. She very much wanted to help. Gibbs looked from the agents to the brothers. They had lost an awful lot, and it sounded like this yellow eyed thing was damned dangerous. Gibbs looked back at his team. He didn't want to lose any more of his family. If they had been trained and properly briefed on this kind of thing, the whole team would jump at the chance to help. Hell, they probably wanted to anyway. Gibbs had great faith in his team, yet this could be so out of their league…

His pondering was cut short by a gasp from Sam. The young man had been dealing with that headache for a while, but now it appeared to be growing intensely. Abby let go and stood back, worried she had hurt him, as Sam brought his hands to his eyes, much like he had when he had experienced the fit earlier in interrogation.

"Aw dammit," muttered Dean, turning the chair and crouching down so he was facing his brother. Sam gasped again, louder this time, and Dean caught him as he leaned further forward almost falling out of the chair. His face was scrunched up in pain.

"What - " Abby began.

"Just back off," ordered Dean impatiently before focusing on his brother. His face was full of concern and his hands gripped Sam's shoulders tightly as his eyes searched Sam's face. For what, Gibbs didn't know. "Sammy," Dean said quietly, staring hard at Sam's face. Sam only moaned in response, barely even registering Dean's existence. The older brother looked extremely angry and concerned.

"Should I call an ambulance?" asked Tony, but Gibbs raised a hand to quiet him. It appeared Sam was experiencing a relapse of before, and Dean was the best qualified in the room to help.

"Let him do his thing," murmured Gibbs quietly. It continued for a few minutes, Sam twitching and gasping in pain, Dean holding him to the chair and occasionally quietly saying his name, telling Sam he was there, it was ok…

Finally Sam opened his eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air as if he had forgotten to in the last five minutes. As before, he looked jumpy, like a rabbit caught in headlights, his eyes wide and panicked.

"Sammy!" yelled Dean, getting his attention. "It's alright, I'm here." By this point McGee, for one, was feeling uncomfortable. This seemed like a significant event for the brothers, and it was a much too personal scene for so many to be watching. But he couldn't turn his eyes away.

Sam's shoulders sagged as he managed to focus on his brother, his entire body minutely relaxing. They looked at each other, a moment of understanding passing between them, before Sam's eyes went back to searching. He looked around, finally settling on Gibbs. His face was full of worry and his voice was laced with dread as he asked a question that caused Gibbs' hair to stand on end.

"Do you, by any chance, have a boat in your basement?"

**PHOOFT.**

**P.S, I had promised myself I wouldn't till this story was done, but I started another fic, this one based on Fairy Tail. So if you like that manga/anime, look for my story, it's called Not So Friendly. I also have all these different ideas, for HIMYM, for NCIS, for NCIS LA, maybe even Bones or a Bones/NCIS crossover... So many choices! Don't worry though, this story is number one priority until it's finished. And it almost is finished! Wow!**

**I hope you liked :) Let me know! I'm still reeling at your wonderful reviews...**


	12. Showdown

**WOW I'm excited about this one. I can't drabble long, have to upload this before I get caught on the computer (I'm meant to be asleep), but as always thanks a great bucket load for the reviews! Every single one warms my heart.**

**Dorothy4, thankyou for reassuring me on the Tylenol issue xD**

It was 2am when the ex-sniper, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, slowly plodded down the steps to his basement. The smell of sawdust filled his nostrils, immediately calming his nerves. It was here where he felt most at home - not the loungeroom, the kitchen or his bedroom - the cool, badly lit basement filled by a half built boat. Gibbs walked up to his beloved project, running a hand over the smooth wood, before turning to the table and pulling out an old jar full of screws. He produced an almost empty bottle of bourbon and tipped the screws out with his other hand simultaneously. Soon enough the dedicated NCIS special agent was sanding out the rough patch in his boat and sipping away at the bourbon swishing around in a dusty old jar. Usually this old habit of his would have Gibbs relaxed and thinking clearly. Not tonight though. Tonight was different. Not even his favourite past time was quite enough to settle Gibbs' famous gut tonight.

It was an hour later that he got a visitor. The wood had long since turned smooth under Gibbs' touch, but he had continued to sand the same spot absentmindedly. It was something to do with his hands while absorbed in his own thoughts. What brought him out of his reverie was a knock on the door to the basement.

"Hello? The front door was unlocked."

Gibbs looked up from his handy work to see two people at the top of the stairs - his neighbours, a young couple who had only recently moved in.

"Yeah, it always is," replied Gibbs. "What can I do for you at 3 in the morning?" His voice was calm enough. As if this were normal. As if the whole day had been normal.

The woman, Hannah he thought her name was, started to walk down the stairs, her husband following close behind. Gibbs wasn't so sure about him either, but the name Jack came to mind. He'd never really had a conversation with newlyweds.

"Well we've got a bit of a problem, see," started Hannah casually, "and we hate to bother you, only…"

"Only we can't really put it off. On a bit of a time schedule, you see." Jack finished, reaching out to the boat and studying the craftsmanship.

"Must be one hell of a schedule," commented Gibbs, leaning against the work bench. His hand rested on the drawer where he kept his sniper rifle, his other hand carelessly hanging by the gun in his holster, which he'd never bothered to take off.

Jack's hand fell away from the boat, and the couple looked directly at him, their faces turning serious. "You have no idea," replied the man, his eyes flashing black. Hannah's eyes darkened too, and the young neighbours grinned sadistically.

* * *

"So what exactly are we waiting for?" asked Tony as he dug into a muesli bar he had proudly found in the back seat of the classic Chevrolet Impala. It was parked opposite the boss's house, blending into the darkness of the night.

"You know, Sam's going to be pissed you ate that," said Dean from the driver's seat.

He heard a muffled "so?" through mouthfuls of muesli.

"So, he's going to blame me."

"Then I don't see the problem," grinned Tony.

"Yeah, you won't be the one with a beer bottle glued to your hand."

Tony laughed. "He actually did that?"

"It's one of his favourite moves," grimaced Dean.

Tony's face turned serious as he studied the eldest Winchester. "You guys are pretty close, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess. You kinda have to be, growing up like we did."

"Which was..?"

"Going across the country from one crappy motel and school to the next, learning how shoot at 10, melting any gifts of silver into bullets…" Dean smirked humourlessly as Tony let out a low whistle.

"Makes my dad seem like a fun guy."

"And anyway, he's my little brother, you know?" continued Dean. "I've always had to look out for him. Ever since our mum was killed in Sammy's nursery and I carried him away from the fire, it's been like my job."

"Sounds like a real barrel of laughs."

Dean smiled. "I never minded. I was so excited when I was told I'd be getting a little brother. Besides, the way we were always moving around, it was good to have a constant friend. And Sam may be a bitch at times, but he's a good kid. Watching out for him… It's just what I do." There was a moment of silence in the car, each man lost in his own thoughts. "It's been a bit harder to do lately, though," muttered Dean under his breath. Tony got the feeling he hadn't meant to say it out loud, so he didn't press. He checked the time, reading 2:30 by his watch. Stifling a yawn, Tony went back to rummaging around in the backseat looking for more of Sam's snacks to steal.

Dean looked out the window at the house across the street. Still no movement. This didn't calm his nerves. Sam's visions were still as accurate as ever. The fact that he was sitting there alive was proof enough.

Sam's latest vision had been a tough one to explain. The brothers had just finished convincing an entire team of trained federal agents that there were supernatural beings, and that those beings were evil. To then bring up the fact that Sam had such a strong connection to said evil… Well, it wouldn't have gone down well. Of course Gibbs had wanted to know how Sam knew about the boat, and the basement. Dean couldn't quite lie through his teeth on this matter, but he managed to twist the truth slightly. While Sam had walked off to splash some water on his face, Dean explained Sam was a psychic who had trained himself to focus on the Yellow-Eyed Demon's movements. This brought on a fair amount of skepticism - demons and ghosts aside, Sam did not look like the palm reading type - but they managed to slide off the hook. Gibbs had still been suspicious, Dean could tell by the way the older man scrutinised the brothers afterwards, but he didn't say anything. He was trusting them for now, which was all they needed.

Dean heard a satisfied "ha!" as Tony found another bar. Returning to the passenger's seat, Tony grinned and tore open the packaging like a man starved for three days. "McGee would love to turn this into a book," said Tony suddenly, as if stumbling across this realisation.

"He's a writer?" asked Dean, surprised.

"He likes to think so," grumbled Tony sourly. "Goes by the pen name Tom E Gemcity."

Dean's eyes widened. "Deep Six?"

Tony groaned. "Don't tell me you read that crap."

"Hell no man, the most literature I enjoy is the articles in Busty Asian Beauties."

"Aw, how good was the last issue? That chick on page 5…"

"Definitely!" agreed Dean with a grin. "Anyway, I think Sam read that Gemcity book once. The kid can never get enough novels."

"Those two geeks would make great friends," commented Tony. There was another silence, a slightly more comfortable one as Tony's watch stated 2:45am.

Eventually Dean asked, "How does Gibbs get the boat out?"

"Damned if I know."

* * *

Sam was crouching silently at the top of Gibbs' stairs near the bedroom, the Colt held firmly in his hands. When he warily informed Gibbs that he was soon to be visited by a pair of demons, the federal investigator had been pretty adamant about carrying a kill-anything-and-everything gun. But there was no way the brothers were handing it over. Killing the SOB was _their_ job, and no matter how great a shot Gibbs was, they were not risking the final bullet to someone who wasn't even a hunter. Of course there was more to it then that. When that Yellow Eyed monster went down, it would be by a Winchester's hand. That was just the way it had to be, the way it had always been planned.

Sam smirked as he remembered going to the NCIS evidence garage to pick up their weapons, and of course, Dean's 'baby'. Agent DiNozzo had looked on enviously as Dean turned the key and revved the engine. The look on his face was one Sam would remember for a long time.

The younger hunter looked up to see where Ziva was standing behind the wall opposite, by the stairs like he was. He had to admire her spirit. It wasn't even 24 hours since she had discovered the existence of the supernatural, yet there she was, standing in the same ready, fighting stance as she had been for the past 45 minutes, her face calm and set. Standing just behind her was McGee, looking just as focused. Ordinary cops or not, this was a professional team. He could tell they were nervous - hell, even now Sam still got an inkling of nerves! But they were handling it extremely well. If he and Dean had to get involved with a bunch of feds, he was glad it was this bunch. Looking back to Ziva, Sam saw her face contort with worry as she seemed to be fighting some inner battle.

"You doing ok?" asked Sam in a whisper. Really, there was no need to be so quiet yet, the demons from his vision hadn't yet shown up, but Dean had always mocked him for being overly cautious. Sam would always point out how many times that trait had saved their asses, and that usually shut Dean up.

"I am fine," reassured Ziva quietly with a small nod. "Just… surprised at myself I guess." Sam raised his eyebrows. "I'm so worried for Gibbs, and I…" she looked down as if ashamed. "I am not used to being so reliant on other people." McGee continued to stay silent, watching Ziva out of the corner of his eye.

"Nothing wrong with relying on others," said Sam, shaking his head.

"Such co-dependency can get yourself killed," Ziva hissed. "I have seen it happen before."

"It can also save your life," countered Sam. "I've seen_ that_ happen before. Trust me."

"Your brother?" asked McGee, his first input into the murmured conversation.

Sam nodded, but his head twitched to the stairs and the front door before he could say anything else. A young couple walked in, not bothering to knock or call out. They looked at each other, smiling confidently, before heading straight for the stairs to the basement. Sam put his finger to his lips, not even glancing at the agents. He waited until the two demons had begun to descend the stairs out of sight before he slowly edged down the set of stairs they had been hiding behind on the top floor. Ziva and McGee followed, guns at the ready. Dean and Sam had emphasised how useless normal guns would be, but the agents seemed more reassured to have them anyway. The team had at least agreed to carrying holy water in their holster. Sam had just made it to the doorway of the basement stairs, hearing talking below, when Dean and Tony came silently through the open front door. Dean was carrying a fuel container full of holy water, Tony a shotgun full of salt shells. Really, that wouldn't do much to the demons, though probably more then normal guns would. And he had been so excited to use a 'monster weapon' as he put it. Said it reminded him of Alien Vs Predator or something.

Sam and Dean nodded to each other as if agreeing to some unspoken plan. Dean entered the basement first, followed by Sam, and the three agents bringing up the rear. To be honest, Sam was amazed the first step didn't creak and give them away.

"You have no idea," said one of the demons to Gibbs, obviously in the middle of a conversation. _Why are demons always so chatty?_ There was no time to ponder the thought as the tense silence shattered, all with a simple creak from the eighth step. The two demons turned quickly to the stairs, their eyes widening as they saw five armed people entering the basement.

The woman made the first move, bringing up a hand to send all of them crashing through the banister and onto the dusty basement floor. This, however, meant she had momentarily forgotten about Gibbs. There was a high pitched scream sure to wake the neighbours as an entire bucket of holy water hidden under the table was chucked on her. She fell to the ground, writhing in pain, uncomfortably similar to the way Tony had earlier- only this was ten times worse. Sam immediately began chanting latin as he pulled himself off the floor, but the man was quick to react. Waving his hand, he sent Sam flying across the room and crashing into the opposite wall.

"Sam!" Dean yelled angrily. They all jumped up, Tony shooting salt shells right into the demon's back. The demon was moved several metres, crashing into the boat and ripping a hole into Gibbs' hard work. Turning, he hissed angrily and raised his hand to Tony, who began to float slightly, grappling at his throat as if being choked.

"Oh no you don't!" Gibbs and Dean shouted simultaneously. Dean was quickest, unloading the holy water onto the man who screamed, almost as high pitched as the woman, who herself was now beginning to recover from her attack. She marched towards Ziva, physically reaching for her neck, but Agent David dodged the hand and punched the woman in the face, breaking her nose. Of course, this left the demon unfazed and she once again reached for Ziva. Dean looked over at McGee, shouting, "now!"

McGee began rambling Latin from a piece of paper held in front of him, as Dean and Gibbs poured the last of the holy water onto the demonic couple. Sam picked himself up from the ground, stumbling over as he began to chant in time with McGee. The two demons were outmatched, on their knees with their hands over their ears desperately, as if to block out the exorcism. It did them no good. Suddenly, as one, they looked up to the ceiling and their mouths opened inhumanly wide, black smoke spurting out like a swarm of locusts. The black smoke swirled into a big mass above the group of fighters, flying chaotically around for a moment before disappearing through the roof.

There was a moment of shocked stillness before the team practically collapsed with relief. Dean walked up to Sam and checked his head, which was bleeding from the crash earlier. Sam just edged away and told him to "back off."

"Come on Sammy, don't be a bitch."

"Says the jerk." The two brothers grinned.

"That was…" Said McGee, finding no real words to describe what had just happened.

"Insane," provided Ziva breathlessly. Tony looked to Gibbs, a lopsided grin on his face.

"You seemed pretty worried for me before, Boss."

Gibbs looked back to Tony, his face neutral but his breathing heavy. "What are you talking about DiNozzo? I was just pissed he damaged my boat." Tony's face fell and Gibbs couldn't quite hide his smirk.

The relief from all could be felt in the air.

**PHOOFT.**

**OK, PLEASE READ:**

**First off, no this story isn't finished yet, I just didn't want to leave you guys on yet another cliff hanger. I'm too nice :)**

**Secondly, I so enjoyed writing this fight scene! But I'm really curious to know what you think, good or bad, I want advice or the future. So please give me your honest opinion.**

**Lastly, I'm working the next few days so I can't promise I will update very soon. But I will ASAP. Promise.**

**Thanks again for all your support!**


	13. Final Round

**I DID IT. I wrote another chapter and uploaded in RECORD TIMING, despite the fact I've been working the last 3 days straight. Because michlovescookies281, a faithful reviewer, asked me to, and today is michlovescookies281's birthday. I couldn't say no to a birthday request, I just couldn't! Jeeze, talk about pressure.**

**I would like to make an official apology in advance, especially to Oyaji Murakami who doesn't seem to be handling my cliffhangers well :) You know how I was nice last chapter, and didn't leave you hanging? Well, this one is kinda big. It's kind of a pretty big cliff with all of you, my wonderful readers who deserve better, hanging over the edge. I am so sorry! I couldn't help it! GAH. Please forgive me.**

**As always thankyou so much for every review and all support shown, you all deserve much love and chocolate.**

**Happy birthday michlovescookies281!**

Wailing sirens had faded into earshot as the small group caught their breath in Gibbs' basement.

"The noise must have woken the neighbours," grimaced McGee, looking at the two unconscious people on the floor. "I mean, you know, the other neighbours."

"Really McObvious?" rasped Tony. He wasn't sounding too good. Gibbs sighed and headed towards the main house, preparing to reassure the cops (somehow) that nothing strange was going on. Thank god for his NCIS badge.

"Hey man, you ok?" asked Dean.

"The sulphur in his lungs and the stress of tonight is most likely effecting his breathing," Ziva said, watching DiNozzo as he waved his hand in a "don't worry about it" kind of way, bending over to catch his breath.

"I haven't seen any other meatsuits get winded like that," replied Dean.

"Meatsuits?" Ziva looked dissaproving.

"It probably… Doesn't mix well… With Y-Pestis… Or whatever the hell it's called…" breathed Tony.

"Come again?" Dean's face contorted in confusion. But Sam was slightly more on the ball.

"You had plague?" the younger brother asked incredulously. Tony just waved his hand again as he switched positions to lean back and look at the ceiling, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll hear all about the story later," reassured McGee grudgingly. "He loves to tell it."

Tony looked to McGee angrily, but before he could say a word, the lights went out. Then back on. Then out again. The lights began flickering like a strobe at a rave, on and off, showing only freeze frames of the wary group's reactions.

"Dammit!" yelled Dean anxiously. "Sammy, you got it?"

"Yeah," Sam was shown holding up a gun, the Colt Abby had pointed out earlier, his eyes looking to all parts of the spacious room expectantly before the lights flickered out again.

"Want to fill us in here?" asked Ziva loudly.

"You should run," was the only answer she got. Finally they were all once again bathed in artificial brightness. But they were no longer alone.

* * *

"Excuse me sir, are you the resident of this address?" the young cop asked Gibbs as he walked out the front door. An older cop, a woman, stood by him quietly. Their car was parked lopsidedly on the edge of the road, its lights still flashing and colouring the quiet neighbourhood. "We heard reports of crashing and screaming. Is there a dispute we need to mediate?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes as he pulled out his badge. "No need to talk all official, kid. I'm special agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and yeah I live here." The older woman inspected the badge and ID under her flashlight as Gibbs continued to talk. "I had a late night visitor, and she wasn't acting very friendly."

"Care to elaborate, sir?"

"Poor girl was running around, knocking into things, screaming her head off. She's quietened down now, having a rest on my couch, but I'll be taking her in myself soon enough."

"Did you know this girl?" asked the older cop, handing back his badge. Gibbs smiled at them. It was the same kind of smile he gave to lawyers and anyone related to the CIA.

"Am I being interrogated?"

"You'll excuse us if we take our jobs seriously, sir," said the woman. "I'm sure you do."

"Yeah, I do, which is why I want to be in my house right now keeping an eye on an assailant who is most likely suffering from a drug overdose," said Gibbs exasperatedly, gesturing back to his front door. He pulled out a business card that he hated to use. "You can call my boss if you like, the Director of NCIS, but while you do that you mind if I go back to my house?" every polite word dripped with impatience and sarcasm. The cops looked suddenly distracted from Gibbs' rude demeanour by something behind him.

"You having some electrical difficulties, Agent Gibbs?" asked the young man. Gibbs turned behind him to see all the lights in his house flashing on and off.

"Crap," he muttered. He doubted it was a faulty fuse box. He started walking back towards the open door, ignoring the cops' indignation. He knew they wouldn't follow. They'd call Vance, have a good long, annoying conversation that Leon would make him pay for later, and radio in a false alarm. Nothing for him to worry about now.

Gibbs had just shut the front door behind him when he heard a muffled crash coming from the basement. Just when he'd gotten rid of those annoying officers… He pulled out his gun due to old habits and slowly snuck down the first few steps of the basement.

"Come on guys, you'll have to try harder then that," he heard someone say. Someone that was definately not one of his agents, nor one of the Winchesters. Silently descending a few more steps, Gibbs' eyes widened as he took in the scene before him.

Standing in the middle of the room was Staff Sergeant Roger Mills. Or at least, the back of him. He was facing McGee and Ziva, who were hanging against the opposite wall as if nailed there. The already damaged boat had been completely knocked over and Sam was slumped on the leg of the workbench, barely conscious. Dean was helping his brother up, glaring daggers at the marine, and Tony was sitting close to the stairs, his breathing ragged, looking feeble as he attempted and failed to get up. Gibbs barely had any time to react before the sergeant turned to face him. The team leader stared at the missing man, two murky yellow eyes staring back, a jagged grin stretched on the old man's - demon's - face. So this was the accurately named Yellow-Eyes...

"And oh look," said the evil creature wearing an honest navy man. Gibbs had a sudden large hatred for this thing. "Another one." His grin only widened as he flicked a hand almost carelessly in Gibbs' direction, causing the agent to fly forward and hit the upturned stand the boat had been on, falling to the ground with a thud. Gibbs immediately rolled away, ending up next to Tony who was clutching his chest as he wheezed. Yellow-Eyes chuckled, a cold, mocking sound, as he watched Jethro slowly sit up and put a hand on his younger agent's shoulder. He could feel the tremors in DiNozzo's body and tried not to flash back to all those years ago when Tony was lying on his deathbed, coughing up blood as he tried to stay conscious… Tony didn't have the kind of medical help he did back then. Gibbs couldn't allow it to get that bad again, even if the relapse was being caused by a supernatural being. Luckily, for DiNozzo at least, Yellow-Eyes wasn't all too focused on them. He twitched his head back to the Winchesters as Sam lifted the Colt in such a swift motion that even Gibbs was impressed. But the Demon was quicker.

Suddenly the gun was in Sergeant Roger's hands, and if possible, his smile got ten times wider.

"Now now, Sammy, wouldn't want you wasting that last bullet would we?" Sam pushed himself off the support of his brother to face Yellow-Eyes squarely, death written all over his face. "Oh come on, my boy, I don't want to fight you. That would put a bit of a damper on things, you know." This creature confused the NCIS agents. He was so powerful, and seemed so evil, but the way he treated the brothers… It was like an uncle teasing his nephews for a bit of a laugh. It was downright creepy.

"Why didn't we know about this Sam?" asked Dean quietly, never once taking his eyes off the thing standing in the middle of the room. Before Sam could answer, Yellow-Eyes did.

"Well, Sam's good, but he's not quite there yet," he said. His head occasionally tilted from one side to the other, as if trying to see a painting from every angle. "I can hide from him when I really want to. Bit hard to keep up with Psychic Boy Wonder here sometimes though." He paused, the brothers standing still as they gauged the Demon's movements. Gibbs wanted to pick up his gun and shoot with every bullet he had, consequences be damned. But he had only twitched a finger when suddenly he was frozen in place, with nothing but his head able to move freely. The son of a bitch didn't even look at him, but Gibbs knew the source of his sudden constrictions.

"And apparently you boys can hide from me too," said Yellow-Eyes casually. "Last I heard you were both being held in a federal boating dock or something."

"You're informant checked out a bit early, so I guess you didn't get the full scoop," sneered Dean. The Demon raised an eyebrow and Dean barked a short laugh. "What, didn't he tell you I exorcised his ass?"

"No, I'm afraid he left out that particular detail," muttered Yellow-Eyes, glaring at Jack, unconscious in a corner next to his wife. "Quite the unreliable child, that one."

"It's what you get for working with demons. Never can trust the bastards," replied Sam. Gibbs had never seen the kid so angry, granted they had only met a short time ago. There was a look of pure hatred on his face, a mask of what Gibbs had seen in the mirror after finding the man that had killed Shannon and Kelly. The Demon simply continued to leer.

"Oh yes, Sam, because your family is so much more trusting. Deano here told you what Daddy's last words were yet?" That was the last straw for the eldest Winchester. With a roar he came charging at Yellow-Eyes with nothing but his balled fists, and of course it was to no avail. Yellow-Eyes flicked his hand and suddenly Dean was pinned against the wall like Ziva and McGee were. He sighed. "Isn't this getting a bit old, boys?"

"Then why are you here?" asked Sam, his voice trembling with rage. His eyes kept flicking to the Colt, now grasped in Yellow-Eyes' other hand behind his back.

"Well, this annoying little bug here was going to get in the way," replied the Demon, finally facing Gibbs. "And I hate flies that just won't stop buzzing." He took a step toward Gibbs who was still frozen in place.

"Boss," wheezed Tony, his body shaking more then ever. The sulphur in his lungs was doing too much damage to organs that had already deteriorated enough from Y Pestis, and he needed a hospital. This was all Gibbs thought as Yellow Eyes leered down at him.

"Keep away from him!" yelled Ziva, her feet dangling above the ground.

"Boss, get out of here!" yelled McGee.

"Oh, he's not going anywhere, are you, Agent?" asked Yellow-Eyes mockingly. Suddenly Gibbs felt inexplicable freedom and realised he was once again able to move. But his hand remained on Tony's trembling shoulder and his eyes remained glaring up at the human mask above him. No, he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't abandoning his agents, and the bastard knew that. "Oh no, he's going to stay here and die, all for the sake of nobility. All for the sake of staying with your family. Sounds rather familiar, doesn't it boys?" he called jeeringly, looking back at the Winchesters. Dean was continously struggling to escape from the wall he was glued to, while Sam… Well, Sam was just standing there. Glaring at the Demon. The young Winchester's eyes were narrowed and his face taut. He appeared to be leaning forward slightly, and his brow was furrowed, as if concentrating extremely hard on something. Yellow-Eyes ignored this strange display and laughed, turning back to Gibbs as he rose his hand. "Just going to let another self-sacrificing fool die for you silly boys..?"

Suddenly all Gibbs knew was a blinding flash of yellow light and a strangled, echoing scream.

**PHOOFT.**

**I wonder how they'd freeze frame that one. Have I said "don't hate me," yet?**

**Was this chapter a bit hard to follow? I found it a bit messy after reading over it, but I decided not to edit it too much, blame my laziness. Hopefully it worked ok though :)**

**I'm very near the end of this story, methinks. After this I'm thinking of doing an NCIS one, a kind of angsty, mysterious, conspiratorial fic revolving around a BIG secret of Tony's. Interested? ;)**

**P.S I know my Author notes go one quite a bit... I just like chattering :) Feel free to ignore them, of course. I probably would xD**

**P.P.S I only just found out you can see how many people have read you story! Did you know this fic has 82 followers so far? And 7659 views? And that more then 1.47 thousand views were from the US? This little graph thing is so cool. I feel so loved! Thankyou Americans!**


	14. Recovering

**I feel so productive! I've updated two stories in one day!**

**Oh my god. Big moment guys! I just checked, and I now have exactly 100 reviews xD Talk about good timing, I wanted to be able to announce that at one point. Thankyou all so much! You have no idea how much it means to me. 100 reviews! My god! You're all too kind.**

**Ok, here it is :D Enjoy!**

There was a moment of oblivion where all anyone in that dank basement knew was a stark yellow light and the overwhelming stench of rotten eggs. The scream faded and the light soon after that. One by one they slowly opened their eyes to see Gibbs' basement, just like it had been before - only no demon. Ziva, McGee and Dean all slumped to the ground and Sam was on his knees, his face scrunched up in pain. Gibbs looked around slowly, at first wondering why he wasn't dead, and then wondering where Yellow-Eyes had gone. Tony's wheezing got no better, his pained breathing the only sound in the room.

"What… Just happened..?" asked Tim, bracing his hands against the wall to lift himself up. Dean glanced over at Sam, who was still kneeling with his hands on either side of his head, and went over to his brother, putting a hand on his back. Dean's eyes were hard as he answered, his jaw practically locked. "I don't know. Maybe someone summoned him somewhere else or…" he didn't bother to continue. Gibbs saw the way he stared hard at the back of his brother's head, avoiding everyone else's gaze. Once again, Dean was hiding something.

Glancing over at Tony, who was looking much too pale, Gibbs focused his mind on the present, confident he would question Winchester later when they had the time for it. "Ziva, get DiNozzo out of here. Call an ambulance. Stay with him." Ziva nodded and helped Tony to his feet, putting his arm around her shoulder as they walked slowly to the stairs. Tony had begun to cough violently, wincing every time he did so. "Does Sam need to go with them?" asked Gibbs, watching Dean closely for his reaction.

"Nah, he's good," muttered Dean, despite the concern showing on his face. Sam slowly looked up and leaned back so he was sitting properly. His nose was bleeding, but other then that he looked ok.

"What happened to him?" McGee asked, confused.

"Yellow-Eyes… tried to attack me as he disappeared," explained Sam in a breathless voice. His eyes closed and he groaned slightly before giving a pained smile. "Didn't get very far though." Dean just continued to stare at Sam, the concern on his face mixing with anger. Gibbs assumed it was anger directed at the Demon - Dean seemed to have a real sore spot for anything hurting his brother, after all. Why else would he look so angry?

After a moment the remaining group slowly made their way to the main house, Gibbs picking up bits of his beloved boat as he went. McGee watched through the lounge room window as an ambulance arrived and Ziva helped Tony into the back, the paramedics already pulling out a breathing mask. Luckily the two officers from before had already left. Gibbs needed a coffee or three before he dealt with any more annoying questions. The ambulance sped away and McGee turned back to Gibbs.

"Is Tony going to be ok?"

"Ehh," came the reply. Gibbs smirked. "He'll be fine." He was again trying not to think back to Tony lying in the plastic container of a room, his lips and fingernails going blue. "He's always fine." Gibbs looked to the brothers, who appeared to be having some kind of silent conversation. Dean glared at Sam, rubbing the back of his head. Sam widened his eyes slightly and looked back innocently with a minute shrug of his shoulders. Dean grimaced and tilted his head to the side. It was the same move McGee always used on Tony when he denied super gluing the keyboard. The kind of gesture that said "who are you trying to fool?"

There was some kind of tension between those two, but Sam looked away, cutting their telepathic argument short. He looked from McGee to Gibbs and said "I don't think you'll be seeing Yellow-Eyes again any time soon. He only seemed to be here in the first place to stamp out an inconvenience, and luckily," Sam gestured to Gibbs, "he won't see you as one any more. I mean, you know, as long as you guys aren't still planning to hold us..?" He looked between the agents again.

"Of course not, Sammy," said Dean confidently, punching him playfully on the arm. "They know we're the good guys now, right?"

"Yeah," replied Gibbs after a moment. "Yeah, we know. You won't be able to go just yet, though." The brothers' eyebrows knitted together in confusion simultaneously. It was almost comical. "We're going to need to tie up a few loose ends. I'm going to want some information in case my team comes across anything like this again. Not to mention, we were never supposed to take you away from base. So if you're going to escape, it'll have to be from headquarters."

"Ah, damn," was Dean's response. "You official guys and all your rules… At least with our job there's no paperwork, aye Sammy?" Sam just ignored his brother with a bitchface that left Gibbs thinking he could give Tim a run for his money. His mouth quirked into a small laugh and he headed for the front door.

"Come on," he said resignedly, "let's get this over with."

* * *

Back at NCIS, Gibbs couldn't believe his luck. Vance wouldn't be there the entire day. He was meeting with the head of the FBI about a certain two fugitives that NCIS was refusing to hand over. Gibbs had never been happier with his own stubbornness. Sneaking the Winchesters back into the building was relatively easier without Leon sticking his toothpicks into their business. The whole 'Winchester situation' had been kept under wraps, with barely anyone in their own agency being told, so the two brothers were able to sit in the squadroom comfortably, so long as they didn't bring any attention to themselves. _They_, however, weren't the problem.

"Yaaayyyy!" everyone turned to see Abby running as fast as she could in her chunky boots towards them, a massive grin plastered on her young face. "You guys made it! You're ok!" She hugged Gibbs with such force it knocked the breath out of him slightly. "I was so worried Gibbs. I'm so glad to see you're ok." Gibbs hugged her back affectionately and she let go, smiling up at him. She then turned around and hugged McGee just as tightly. Dean and Sam watched this display of affection with mild interest and surprise, apparently still not quite used to such a cheerful Gothic forensic scientist.

"Yeah, we're alright Abby," said Tim reassuringly. Abby then turned to Sam and hugged him, who looked just as shocked as the first time she did it. Dean winked to his brother over her shoulder. Abby then turned to Dean. She obviously wasn't quite as comfortable around him yet, having not spent as much time with him as Sam. Dean figured it was just his brother's innocent 'love-me' face. Abby looked at Dean, contemplating. There was a moment of silence where Dean watched her, looking slightly wary, before Abby hugged him too. McGee couldn't help but snicker at Dean's surprise. Quickly letting go, she looked around again, and the joy quickly slipped from her face.

"Where's Tony and Ziva?" asked Abby, suddenly looking a whole lot more dangerous then before.

"They're at the hospital, Tony - "

"Oh my god, what happened? What happened to Tony? I knew I should have gone!" ranted Abby fretfully, her eyes widening significantly. "Gibbs, no, don't tell me he - "

"Abs! Will you slow down a minute?" said Gibbs, amused. "How many Caf-Pows have you had today?"

Abby grimaced. "Three." Tim looked at her. "Give or take." She paused again. "Four. Give or take four."

"Jesus, Abby," exclaimed McGee.

"Well I couldn't very well sleep, could I?" Abby defended herself. "Knowing you guys were off battling some mother of all demons and I couldn't even be there to help in any way, and I totally could have helped if you guys had just let me, but you wouldn't even allow me to leave the building, and I mean, of all people, you would want me at a demon fight, because I know my stuff and believe it or not - "

"Abby, Abby, slow down," soothed Gibbs. She had been gesturing wildly as she rambled and only now stopped to take a breath. Abby focused once more on her boss.

"What happened to Tony?" she asked again, seriously and slowly.

"We think his lungs were playing up," answered McGee. "Nothing serious," he added quickly as Abby opened her mouth again. "Just a bad reaction to the sulphur. It would have been irritating the scars on his lungs." Abby nodded, trying to breathe slowly again, moving her hands up and down like elevators along with the timing of her breathing.

"Ok, what the hell is a Caf-Pow and where can I get Sam here one?" asked Dean, thoroughly entertained by Abby's behaviour. Her eyes widened.

"You've never had a Caf-Pow before? But you haven't lived!" Abby grabbed both their hands and dragged them away, rambling on about how she was about to change their lives. Gibbs smiled and sat down at his desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You ok boss?" asked McGee.

"This is going to be a tough one to explain," sighed Gibbs. "We're going to have to let the case go cold, and turn our backs while two of the FBI'S most wanted run free."

"Not a good day for the agency," agreed McGee. "The Director is going to be thrilled." He grimaced and headed to his own desk.

McGee spent the majority of that day working on a cover story for everything while Gibbs drilled more information out of the Winchesters, both sipping their own Caf-Pows, on supernatural things and how to deal with them. He needed them gone by the end of the day, but wanted to get as much info as he could by then. Ziva returned shortly after lunch, saying they were keeping Tony in overnight and that he was not happy about it.

Eventually, at about 3pm, Gibbs decided they had waited long enough - it was time for the Winchesters to disappear. Unfortunately, they kind of already had. Realising they weren't in sight, Gibbs swore silently and walked off to find them.

Meanwhile, Jimmy Palmer was heading towards the squadroom to ask if something had happened yesterday while he'd been away. Doctor Mallard had been acting very distracted all day and it worried his assistant. Palmer turned the corner near the stairs that led up to MTAC and stumbled across a rather heated argument between two strangers. The slightly shorter man in the leather jacket seemed to be lecturing the taller guy, who's face was pinched and tired. Upon his intrusion they both turned to look at him, and Palmer just stared back.

The shorter, angrier one gave him an obviously fake smile. "Hi there. Mind running along, dude?"

"Oh, ah, sorry," stammered Palmer, turning to go back the way he'd came. He turned the corner but stopped, staying close to the wall, unable to ignore the curiosity bubbling inside. He recognised those two, he just couldn't figure out where from. Believing Jimmy had left, they went back to their argument.

"I know you did that Sam!" that was the guy that had told Palmer to shoo. He was speaking quietly but angrily. "Just like the way you opened that door that Max locked you behind, and the way you're always getting those visions, I know you did this too. Just admit it!" Palmer's eyes widened. What the hell were these two going on about?

"So what if I did Dean?" that must have been the taller one talking. "It's not like I meant for it to happen!" His voice was just as quiet, just as angry. "It just did. And thank god, or Gibbs would have ended up dead!" Palmer's mouth dropped. "That would have been on us. But he's alive, we all are."

"I dunno, man," replied Dean. "I mean, spoon bending is one thing, but what you did back there, that would have taken a lot of mojo."

"Yeah, you're telling me. My head still hurts."

"It's kinda freaking me out, ok? That was some serious crap you pulled." There was a moment of silence and one of them sighed. Palmer couldn't tell which one.

"Look, I'm sorry." That was the one called Sam. Wait… Sam and Dean… "But I think we have more pressing things to worry about right now, don't you?"

"Yeah? Like what?" sarcasm dripped from Dean's words.

"I don't know if you've forgotten, but Yellow-Eyes has the colt now!" Who was Yellow-Eyes? Some code name? Jimmy was starting to freak out and really wanted to run off and relay all of this to Doctor Mallard, distracted or not. But he couldn't pull himself away, not yet. "And we've got nothing else to kill the bastard!" There was another silence, followed by the sound of someone punching the wall.

"Dammit," breathed Dean. Before the argument could escalate further, Gibbs appeared, walking towards Palmer with purpose. Palmer suddenly got nervous, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, and walked down the hallway, passing Gibbs with an awkward nod as he went. Gibbs all but ignored him, heading to where the two men had been arguing. Sam and Dean they had said… And what were they talking about? Yellow eyes? Visions? Spoon bending? And by the sounds of things they were planning to kill someone…

Palmer entered the elevator and pressed the button for autopsy before freezing in his tracks. Sam and Dean. He remembered where he'd seen those men before. On the news, shortly after their escape from Green River County Detention Centre. They were criminals, wanted by the FBI. Palmer watched Gibbs push the brothers in front of him and they all began walking out of sight casually. Jimmy called out to Gibbs and tried to step out of the elevator but at that moment the doors closed and it swiftly lowered itself away from the fugitives who had appeared to be comfortably chatting with Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

**PHOOFT.**

**Well guys, there's only one more chapter to go. I'm a little reluctant to finish it! But at the same time I'm pretty excited. As I said earlier, I'm planning on doing an NCIS fic next about a secret of Tony's, but I just wanted to ask something and I need you guys to give me an honest answer :)**

**Should I think about doing a kind of sequel to this story? I haven't decided if I want to yet, and thought maybe your opinions could help. Do you think maybe it would just be better to finish this story and be done with it? I'm still going to write others of course, so I dunno. Tell me what you think!**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll update soon!**


	15. Farewell For Now

**Congratulations, you're witnessing history. This the first multi-chapter story I've ever actually completed. EVER. I'm not just talking FF, I'm talking in my life. So, an accomplishment was made. I'm all done! This is exciting and sad! I'm going to miss you guys! Is it sad that I've become attached to my reviewers? Don't answer that.**

**But thankyou so much everyone! I am so so grateful for all of your reviews and support, you make my day. I got a lot of yesses to doing a sequal and I have an idea or two so I'm going to think about it, but I think I'll do my NCIS fic first either way. Ok, here it is! Last chapter of Mixed Priorities! Enjoy :)**

**Once again, dedicated to Tosca's Prayer.**

Dean slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed towards his beloved Impala, parked back in the evidence garage as if it had never left. Sam had already dumped his in the trunk and was leaning against it calmly. Gibbs had already ordered the few probies working on that floor to clear out so they would have privacy.

"So, run this by me again," said Dean, amused, as he walked back over to Gibbs, Ziva, McGee and Abby. "How did we escape the infamous NCIS?"

McGee explained. "Well, you told us the clue to finding Sergeant Mills was in your car, and that you would show it to us for a deal."

"And you were stupid enough to fall for it?" asked Dean smugly. Sam nudged his brother with a serious look.

"Unfortunately," replied McGee. "We had taken the weapons out of the car but there was a 45. between the seats that Abby missed."

Abby scoffed, looking offended. "Like I'd ever miss that."

"You pulled it on us and told us to handcuff ourselves to the fence," Tim pointed to the fenced area that held boxes of files and small pieces of evidence from cold cases. "Then you drove right through that door and escaped."

Dean suddenly looked mortified. "I have to smash my baby through a garage door?"

Gibbs smirked. "It's just sheet iron, pretty flimsy stuff. It shouldn't do too much damage to the car."

"Would keep out vengeful spirits though," laughed Sam. Dean started grumbling.

"I don't like this," he muttered angrily, "I fixed her up good as new and she's about to get dented all over ag-" Gibbs smacked him upside the head. "Hey!" Dean cried out indignantly. "What the hell do you keep doing that for?"

"You're getting off easy," assured Gibbs seriously.

"He's right, Dean," said Sam pointedly.

"Yeah, I dunno about that," Dean grumbled. Ziva glared at him.

"We are all jeopardising our careers here," she said. "We'll be in enough trouble as it is for doing such sloppy work, but if we get caught? That's all our lives down sink." Sam looked confused.

"Toilet," supplied McGee, "she means toilet."

Ziva waved her hands as if trying to shoo away a fly. "Whatever, we will be in trouble."

"So you two should get moving," said Gibbs, checking his watch. The two brothers nodded and turned to the car, but Abby stepped forward looking distressed.

"Wait," she said loudly. They looked back at her and she bit her lip. "What if - what if we get something, you know, weird, again. I mean, I've been hearing scratching sounds in my lab, and - "

"Abby, that was your faulty computer, remember? I fixed it for you last week." said McGee, earning a glare from the scientist. She turned back to the brothers.

"Well, it might not be a faulty computer next time, and I want to be prepared, but there's only so much research you can do online, and maybe if I had a number or something - "

"We can't make friends with them Abby," sighed Gibbs. She always got so attached. "We don't need any clues to make the FBI any more suspicious then they already will be."

Abby looked down at the ground, disheartened. "Geeze, you guys." Sam laughed slightly. Abby tried not to smile - she really liked his laugh. The Winchesters raised a hand goodbye in unison before walking to their car.

"Tony will be sorry he didn't get another look at his 'classic'" said Ziva, smiling.

"Eh, he'll get over it," said Gibbs. He watched as Sam talked to Dean over the roof of the car, gesturing though his words couldn't be heard from there. Dean grimaced in response and shook his head. There was a few more minutes of light arguing before Gibbs checked his watch again.

"Hey! Shouldn't you be leaving?" he called out to them impatiently. Instead Sam walked back over to them, Dean slightly behind, looking disgruntled. Sam was carrying what looked to be a faded old book, with loose pages sticking out at all sides.

"Take this," he said to Abby, who's eyes immediately widened, her mouth forming a small 'o' shape. "It should keep you prepared for anything that might show up." Abby took the book from him gently and opened it up, her eyes going even wider as she studied the scrawled writing and roughly drawn pictures. "It was our dad's. Anything you need to know will be in there."

Abby's face lit up like never before. "This is amazing! I'll have this read in, like, a day!"

"I still don't like this," muttered Dean, his eyes dark.

"Come on Dean, we know the thing off by heart anyway," said Sam. He looked back to Abby, adding "besides, we'll be back for it." Abby looked up at him and, if possible, her smile got wider.

"Right! I'll take great care of this thing, I swear!" she said seriously. "I'll keep it under lock and key, I'll use gloves when I'm handling it, the works!" Sam smirked, making up for Dean's continuing sulky look.

"Great. See you around then." The brothers walked back to their car. Sam waved before getting in the passenger seat and Dean patted the roof, his eyes gleaming like a kid with a new - or, in this case, old - toy. He was just about to get in when his face contorted into anger and he looked back at the agents.

"Hey!" he yelled. "What did you do to my upholstery?" Abby suddenly looked mortified. She had forgotten to fix up the back seat after finding the initials carved there.

"You should really get going!" she called back nervously, holding tightly onto the worn journal. McGee and Ziva smirked, Gibbs laughing slightly as Dean shook his head, looking furious, and got into the Impala. Without any more words exchanged, the car revved powerfully and tore right through the garage door with a sickening screech, gliding away and out of sight. Gibbs shook his head, suddenly feeling exhausted, and turned to his team.

"Abby, you'd better get back to your lab before we're found."

"Ok. Good luck guys!" With that Abby headed for the elevator, already reading the first page of her gift from Sam. The others got out their handcuffs and walked over to the fence, Gibbs pulling out his phone and preparing to make a distress call.

"This is so demeaning," said Ziva unhappily, chaining herself to the fence.

* * *

An hour later they were walking back to the squadroom, having been 'found and rescued'. Palmer was standing nervously by the plasma, shifting from foot to foot.

"There you are! I've been looking for you guys!" he said with relief. "Listen, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but you've got two of the most dangerous men in America in custody." He looked determined and slightly scared.

"And who would that be Palmer?" asked Gibbs.

Jimmy grinned slightly as if he thought Gibbs might be joking. "Well - Sam and Dean Winchester! Haven't you heard the stories? They're wanted by the FBI! They dig up graves! I heard they sacrifice cows and dogs for Satan!" Ziva tried to hide her smile.

"And where do you hear these things Palmer?" asked Gibbs suspiciously. The young man grinded to a halt.

"Oh - well, you know - they were on the news, and I, see I might have seen them mentioned in blogs and stuff online," he stuttered. Gibbs just looked him up and down.

"Uh-huh."

Palmer blushed.

"We did have them Palmer, but they escaped," explained Tim with a grimace. "Seems it's their specialty." Jimmy looked shocked.

"You - you let them escape?" he asked looking from McGee back to Gibbs, who glared up at him from his desk. "Well, I mean - not that you _let_ them escape, but - oh man, Director Vance is going to be so - "

"Pissed? You're damn right he will be." Everyone turned to see Leon Vance at the corner of Ziva's desk, looking mad. Behind him were Agents Fornell and Henricksen, looking doubly angry.

"Well hey there, Leon," said Gibbs casually. "I guess you heard, huh?"

"My office, now," was his only reply. Gibbs shrugged and left his desk to follow Vance and the two FBI agents upstairs.

"Hate to be a part of that conversation," said McGee. He looked nervous. "How much trouble you think we're in?" Before Ziva could answer a new voice was heard from the elevator.

"Hey guys!" called Tony with a small cough, walking up to them happily.

"You were let out already?" asked Ziva with surprise.

"Well, not - not exact - " Tony broke into a slight coughing fit, cutting off his words. Ziva sighed. By the time Tony had finished his spluttering McGee and Ziva were sharing a look of exasperation.

"What?" he asked, sitting down at his desk. "I didn't want to miss them." Silence greeted this statement as the other agents avoided his gaze. "Aw dammit, I missed them didn't I? I guess that would explain why Agent Sucks was so sour in the elevator. The guy looked constipated." Tony coughed again.

"You should go back to the hospital," said McGee matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Tony answered nonchalantly. He looked over to Jimmy, who had been standing in the background with his mouth slightly open since Vance had shown up.

"What's up with Autopsy Gremlin?"

* * *

Dean gripped the wheel of his car tightly, enjoying the familiar feel of leather and the low rumbling sound his baby emitted. Sam leaned back, looking exhausted.

"I still don't agree with giving them Dad's journal," commented Dean after a moment.

"Then why'd you let me?"

Dean contemplated his answer. "Well, I guess it would help if _someone_ in law enforcement had an idea about the crap we do." Sam looked at his brother, skeptical. Dean grinned slyly. "Besides, like you said, we'll be back for it soon enough. Don't want that Goth chick forgetting about you, aye Sammy?"

"Dude, come on."

Dean laughed as his brother looked away slightly, suddenly turning shy.

"I think that was the best run in with the law we've ever had," said Sam. Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, they weren't bad." Sam looked out the window before turning back to Dean as the older Winchester veered onto another road.

"We're in deep crap now, though, you realise that Dean?"

Dean nodded. "Well, with the Demon taking the Colt and us most likely having our faces splashed all over the 6 o clock news tonight, yep, I'd say we're up the creek."

Sam sighed. "It's never going to get easier, is it?"

Dean looked across at his younger brother, expertly hiding the concern he suddenly felt well up within him. He slapped on a trademark smirk instead.

"But then it wouldn't be any fun Sammy!"

**PHOOFT.**

***rolls credits***

**Well, I hope you liked. Sorry if the ending was unsatisfying in anyway or if I missed anything you wanted in this story. Thanks so much for sticking with me till the end! I'm going to start working on my next fic right now!**

**Until then, Ciao!**


End file.
